Stand by Me
by Kyepie05
Summary: There are times when you're down and all you need is for someone to stand by you. Every member of the gang was close so this is a collection of one shots of different members of the gang comforting each other when they're down. First up is Soda and Steve.
1. Steve and Soda

**This is a bunch of one shots inspired by the song/movie Stand by Me. The entire gang is close and they're all there for each other. So this is stories about those different times when they've comforted each other. I hope you like it.**

** I don't own The Outsiders (belongs to SE Hinton of course :)) or the man in the hole story (that belongs to West Wing).**

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**Story One**

**Steve and Soda**

**"I Know the Way Out"**

Soda stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground. He felt broken and crushed. What was he going to do? How would he handle this? He had to be strong for Ponyboy though and he knew Darry was grieving, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He just needed to be alone to think.

Now was a good time for that. It was late, around midnight. He had waited until Pony fell asleep then left the house. He'd be back in an hour or so. He just needed fresh air. He reached his favorite park and immediately made a beeline for the huge tree planted right in the middle of it. This was his place. This was where he had come to think since he was a kid.

He climbed up, perched himself on a branch, and stared out, watching the night sky and a few lights in the town that were left on. He leaned against the trunk, arm slung over another branch, and took some time to think about what had happened a month ago.

Golly, his parents were amazing. They were so understanding and patient and kind… They were parents to seven boys. How could they be taken? They were so needed. His mother was the only person who could calm Dallas. She was his chance at a better life.

And the both of them were showing Johnny what being loved meant. Poor Johnny Cade was yelled at, hit, or ignored at home. This was the only family he had. So why did it have to shredded too? Why couldn't it stay intact for Johnny if not for any of the rest of them?

His father had become the role model Steve didn't have at home anymore. Steve would come over when things got rough and spend time talking to Soda's dad about it. He'd just tell him what was going on and what had happened this time and Soda was never in the room when his dad answered Steve but whatever it was always helped. If no one else knew what the magic words were to cheer him up what would happen now?

Two-Bit needed to know that not all dads just ran out on families. He needed them both to show him that he was more than his father's son. He goofed around a lot, sure, but he could do anything if he put his mind to it. He wasn't a loser and he was more than a greaser. But Soda wasn't sure he could see that on his own.

Ponyboy was only fourteen. He was only fourteen years old. He needed his parents to help him understand things like girls and school and worrying about the future. Who would teach him to shave or help him train for cross-country? And who would give him advice and make him feel better after a bad day?

Not to mention that now Darry was never going to be able to go to college. That wasn't fair. Darry was a genius. He deserved his best shot at life. Besides that, Dad was practically his best friend. Darry was grieving just like they were but felt like he had to be strong for them. He wouldn't talk about it and he certainly wouldn't cry, not in front of them anyway.

And Soda needed them. He needed them both so badly. His mother was the only one who could help him with school. No one else helped him focus on what he needed to do. They taught him about respecting girls and being a gentlemen and applying himself and learning where he belonged when he felt like the world was against him. What would _he_ do? They taught him so much about life and love.

His father, Darrel Curtis, had been at a restaurant with some friends when he met Soda's mother, Molly Curtis. He saw her and knew. He said he just _knew_. On their first date, he carved their initials into a tree, told her he was going to marry her, and sure enough a month later, they were married.

What his parents had was love. That was what he wanted. They had showed him that what marriage was and what parenting was. Thanks to them he knew he could be a good dad someday.

His stomach lurched as he realized that now he'd never be able to ask them questions about kids. He'd never be able to call his mom when he got in a fight with his wife and ask her how to handle it. He'd never be able to ask his dad how to have "the talk" with his son.

He bowed his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. It had been one long month and he couldn't imagine life going on past this. He couldn't imagine it not hurting. He couldn't imagine ever feeling better.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Soda jumped, grabbed a branch for support, and looked up to see Steve sitting a few branches above him. Steve climbed down to his branch and sat beside him. Soda looked at the ground, unsure of how he felt about being caught. It was nice to have someone there with him. It was comforting. But at the same time he wanted to sit and think. He didn't want to put on a brave face. Not now.

"You knew I'd be here?" he asked finally.

"I know you better than you know you. This is the first tree you ever climbed. Your dad taught you. I remember that." Steve looked out at the park. "How are you doing?"

"Awful," Soda whispered honestly. "Absolutely horrible. I miss them. I miss them so much it keeps me up at night. I can't sleep. I only eat because Darry makes me. Have you ever been so upset you're just not hungry?"

Steve nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"I feel like that a lot… Not all the time, but a lot… And it is exhausting trying to be happy. I'm trying so hard to act like I see the light at the end of this tunnel but I don't. I don't see how it can possibly get better."

"Yeah, I know. I know you've been struggling. I can see past that grin of yours. I know when you fake it. And I don't think I've ever seen you fake it like you have the past month," Steve told him. He was quiet for a minute before adding, "I think you should take some time off work. You deserve time to heal."

"I can heal at work just as easy."

"When you get done with school for the day you should be able to go home and relax."

Soda took a deep breath. "I think I might drop out." It was the first time he voiced the thought but saying it out loud just increased his confidence that it was a good idea.

"What?"

"I might drop out."

"Darry will never let you," Steve said softly.

"Yes, he will. He needs help with the bills and he's too emotionally drained to fight me too hard." Soda picked at a piece of bark. "He'll let me…."

Steve was quiet for a few minutes before responding. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yeah. I am. I hate school. Mom's the only thing that got me through this far. Without her…" He shook his head. "I don't want to do it. I don't want to be called dumb anymore or struggled or get stressed. I'm just done with it. I can do more good by dropping out."

"I get it… But think it over okay?" Steve looked at him. "Just make sure you aren't only doing it because you're overwhelmed right now."

Soda nodded slowly. "Yeah, alright…" He took off a piece of bark and tossed it. "Why'd they have to die? It ain't fair. We need 'em. Every one of us."

"I know."

"They were such great people. They didn't deserve that. They deserved the best life possible. And the longest life. And what do they get?" He pulled a newspaper clipping out of his pocket. ""Couple killed by drunk driver". That's what they get. That's it." He stuffed it back in, feeling himself getting worked up. "Killed by drunk driver. Damn it!" Soda hit the tree trunk furiously. "People shouldn't drink and drive. Why do they do it? Why the hell do they do it? What's the point? Can you tell me the point?" he ranted. Steve shook his head silently. "It sucks and it ain't fair! It ain't alright and it ain't ever gonna be because some idiot couldn't wait for a beer!"

Steve gently put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "People can be idiots," he said softly. "But there's good in the world."

"Since when are you an optimist?" Soda looked at his friend, one eyebrow cocked.

"Since you stopped being one. I figure one of us should be. I guess it's my turn."

Soda glared at the sky. "I don't know how I'm going to get through this."

Silence fell between the friends. "Did you know that your dad's dad was kind of like mine? Not as bad but he drank a lot too. He tried to kick him out sometimes but his mom wouldn't let him."

Soda looked up, intrigued. "I didn't know that. He never talked about his dad."

"That's why your dad was the one who always took me outside to talk to me." Steve stared down at the ground. "I don't know how I'm going to get through this either. I don't know how I'm going to make it. But that's what I thought when my mom died."

Soda reached over and slung an arm around his friend's shoulders. It made sense now. Again, however, he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of pain. Who could relate to Steve's situation now? Who would guide him? There was no one who could.

"I'm going to tell you a story," Steve said, taking a deep breath and shrugging out of Soda's arm. "This guy is walking down a street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep that he can't get out." Steve turned his eyes to his friend, who was watching him as well. "A doctor walks by and the guy calls out "Hey, doc, will you help me out here?" The doctor writes a prescription and tosses it in the hole then keeps going. A priest then walks by and the guy calls up "Hey, Father, I'm stuck. Will you help me?" The priest writes down a prayer and tosses it in then walks away. Finally, a friend walks by. The guy calls up, "Hey, Joe, will you help me? I'm stuck in this hole here." His friend jumps in the hole. Our guy looks at him and says, "You idiot! Now we're both stuck in here." His friend says, "Yeah but I've been here before and I know the way out.""

Soda slowly looked back down at the ground, feeling himself tearing up again. He fought the tears desperately, although he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to stop them for long.

"I've felt this before." Steve's voice quavered with emotion. "It gets better. Slowly but surely. Every breath gets a little easier. You just take it one day at a time. But for now it's okay to cry."

That was all the incentive Soda needed. Steve wrapped his arm around his friend and sat in silence with him as he wept. As Soda cried he thought. He thought about his mother's laugh and his father's grin. He thought of how they met. He thought of the meals his parents would make and of the food fights they would get in every now and then. He thought about how proud they had been when Darry won his first football game, or when Soda got his job at the DX, or when Ponyboy's teacher called home to tell them how wonderful he was in class. Soda thought back to the first time he had experimented with dinner and the looks on their faces and then the laughter that had hit the table like a thunderstorm. Finally, he thought about the story. He thought about the hole he had fallen in and he turned his gaze to the friend who had jumped in it with him.

Without saying a word, he nodded to his best friend, who gave him a small smile and jumped out of the tree. Soda leapt after him, landed, and brushed himself off. As the two of them started the walk home, Soda found his voice at last.

"Thanks for coming to talk to me."

Steve smiled sadly and nodded his head. "What are friends for? It'd sure be a shame if I knew you this well just to let you tackle things like this all by yourself don't you think?"

Soda smiled a little himself. "I suppose so."

"Besides, we both know that soon enough you'll be doing this for me."

"You ain't wrong there." Soda shoved his hands in his pockets. Five minutes later, they reached the point where they would separate to go to their own houses.

As Steve started to walk away, Soda looked after him. "Steve, hang on." His best friend stopped and looked at him. "That story about the guy in the hole... That's what my dad used to tell you isn't it?" His voice broke as he asked the question he already knew the answer.

"Yeah. Yeah it was. Always told me it was mine to share if I wanted. Now you've got that chance too buddy."

Soda nodded, gratefulness written plainly all over his face. Steve threw him a reassuring smile and a nod of the head then headed home. Soda turned and went him, hands in his pockets.

Yeah, he was in a hole. But maybe together they could all get out of it. He looked up at the starry night and nodded a little. "Don't worry about me," he whispered. I've got someone showing me the way out."

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**Thanks for reading! It'd be great if you'd drop me a review. :) If you guys would like feel free to request another two characters to do and a situation for me to write them going through. Or just two characters or just a situation. :) Thanks again guys! You rock!**


	2. Johnny and Dally

**Here's the next chapter! Dally and Johnny requested by outsidersfanlovesdally. I hope you guys like it!**

** I don't own the Outsiders!**

**Story Two**

**Johnny and Dally**

**"You ain't too bad"**

It was freezing outside. The snow combined with the cold night air made fourteen-year-old Johnny almost turn back around and go home for the night. He had just about decided to do just that when a large rock landed in the snow near him. Johnny jumped and looked around in an unpleasant surprise. He recognized Dally's figure in the distance and cocked his head curiously.

"Dally!" He called over before jogging to his side. "What was that?'

Dally looked at him, seeming surprised to see him. "What?" he asked gruffly, shoving past him and walking away.

Johnny sighed and went after him, realizing that all Dally had on was jeans, an old pair of beat up converse, and a T-shirt. He had to be freezing. "The rock you threw at me."

"Did that almost hit you?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Sorry, kid."

He didn't sound too sorry but Johnny shrugged it off. "What's up, Dal?"

"Nothing," was the gruff response.

"Yeah, okay. And pigs fly. Talk to me. What's going on?" The concern for his friend made everything seem chillier and made the chill harder to notice at the same time.

"It's my damn old man," Dally snarled. "Thinks he can run my life when everyone knows he doesn't care. He just wants people to think he does. That way he can get time off work when he wants to by using the excuse "Oh my son's sick. He needs me." Like I'd ever need him!" He spat in the snow and Johnny noticed he was shaking. Whether it was from the cold or the anger he wasn't sure. It was probably both.

"He only looks after himself and yet he has the balls to tell me what I can and can't do? Please! He just wants me around to fetch him beer!" He kicked out at a rock furiously. He then began swearing in such a filthy way that Johnny thought he may have been his and Tim Shepard's records combined.

Johnny looked down at the snow as they walked. He knew what it was like to not be wanted. He knew Dally knew as well but he'd never heard Dally talk about it. Not like this. He and the rest of the gang had discussed it but never when Dallas was around. They knew better than that.

Dally's dad was a real jerk. When you have kids they're _supposed_ to be the most important thing to you. Dally's dad didn't even want him. He almost kicked him out a couple of times but always changed his mind. Dally, however, generally tried to keep away from the house to avoid him in response. He didn't want to be where he wasn't wanted. He definitely didn't want to be somewhere where he'd be yelled at, cussed at, and told to fetch or clean things. That wasn't saying that Dally actually did those things of course. Anything Dally's dad said was immediately declared a stupid idea in Dally's head. To be honest though, just about everything Dally's dad ever said _was_ a stupid idea.

Johnny met the man once at the grocery store. He was there with Mr. Curtis getting some things for dinner. They had separated so the job would get done faster. Johnny had almost run right into Mr. Winston. He thanked his stars that he didn't the moment he saw him. The man shot him a dirty look and began swearing at him to watch where he was going.

That was when Dallas showed up, got between them, and started arguing with his dad. He left with Johnny in the middle of the argument, before Johnny could say anything to come to both his and his friend's defenses. The whole thing had happened too quickly to even register it really. But those couple of minutes with the father of his friend had told him more than an hour of listening to Dally talk could have.

"Yeah, I know, man." Johnny looked at his friend. "I'll tell you what. Let's go to Buck's, all right? We can talk, you can grab a beer and calm down…"

Dally cocked an eyebrow as he stopped walking. "You hate Buck's." Johnny merely shrugged and Dally nodded then turned with Johnny and started heading in the other direction.

The minute they entered the warmth of Buck's, Johnny exhaled a breath of relief. At least now they could actually talk without freezing to death. Johnny sat down and Dally got a beer before joining him. Hank Williams was blasting all around and Johnny noted silently that Ponyboy would be going back out in the snow right now if he were here.

"I ain't going back there," Dally said as he took a swig. "Never again. I'm done. He can do whatever he wants but he can do it without me. He never wanted a son anyway." No one other than Johnny would have detected the bitter note in his voice.

Concern for his friend flooded Johnny instantly. Did he have anywhere else to live? "Dally," he said quietly. Dallas ignored him so he raised his voice. "Dally. Listen. Your dad's…" He looked for a polite way to word it then shook his head. He was at Buck's anyway. "He's an ass. And that's the nicest way I can possibly say it. But what else can you do?"

"I can stay here. Hell, I never really sleep at home anyway. I'm sure Shepard will let me use his couch now and then and we both know the Curtises will. I'll be fine."

Johnny nodded a little. "You know that if I could I'd offer my couch. Shoot, man, I'd offer my room."

"Yeah, I know." Dally was quiet for a few more minute before he kicked a chair roughly. Johnny looked at him in surprise. "Damn it! Why do we gotta have a dump for a home life on top of never getting a good break?"

Johnny looked down. "I dunno Dal."

"How is this even close to being fair? But you know what? It ain't! Go ahead and ask me why." Without waiting for Johnny to even open his mouth, Dally continued, "Because we ain't anything but trash! No good trash! That's all we'll ever be! You can count on that!"

"Dally." Johnny's voice was sterner than he expected it to be. "Calm down will ya?"

"What right do you have to tell me to calm down?" Dally growled. "You don't know-"

Johnny raised his eyebrows as Dallas cut himself off, looking almost sheepish now as well as angry and upset. "I don't get it?" Johnny leaned forward. "You think I don't get it? I go in, no one notices. I leave, no one cares. I either get yelled at or swung at or ignored and I don't get it? Yeah, I get it. I get it real good. Don't you tell me I don't."

Dally was obviously surprised and thrown off guard. He was quiet for a minute then mumbled, "Sorry Johnnycake."

Johnny sighed. "Dal, things are gonna get better."

"How do you know?"

"Because they have to."

In that moment, Dally understood. Johnny needed to believe that people could be good. He needed to believe life could be good. He wasn't like Dally. Dally had given up years ago. Johnny hadn't. Johnny had faith. That was one of the most comforting things Dally had ever thought of. He didn't want Johnny to be like him. He wanted Johnny to have everything anyone could ever have.

When he was a kid, he'd always wanted a little brother. Now, as he looked at the kid who was looking at him with a rare defiant blaze in his eyes, he realized that he finally had that. He had his little brother and that feeling of being needed and looked out for at the same time brought a smile to his lips.

"What do you say we go to the Curtis house? Talk to some decent parents?"

Johnny nodded and smiled. "Good idea." He got to his feet then hesitated. "Hey, Dally?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it doesn't really make it easier but you don't need your dad. You're gonna be just fine."

Dally gave the younger boy a small smile. "Thanks Johnnycake."

"But if you ever need to talk…."

Dally gave a gruff laugh. "Yeah, right." He walked outside, chortling the whole way as if Johnny had just made the best joke he had ever heard. Johnny just smiled to himself and shook his head as he followed his friend. That was Dallas for you. But he knew that when push came to shove Dally had gotten the message. He'd come to him. Maybe he wouldn't talk about things as much as normal people but he'd let Johnny figure out a way to help.

Johnny joined him outside and Dally threw his arm around his shoulders. "What took ya so long kid? Ya really took your time getting' out here."

"Yeah, bet you're missing your jacket now huh?" Johnny grinned at him.

"Nah, I ain't cold."

"Bull." Johnny shook his head, smiling.

Dally grinned and got him in a headlock, ruffling his hair. "You know, kid, you ain't too bad."

Johnny grinned back at him, not saying a word. Thy both knew he didn't really need to.

"Dally?" he asked after a few minutes of walking.

"Yeah."

"What'd your old man do this time?"

"Lectured me on school. Like he's got any right. Or he cares. He just doesn't want me around the house any more than I have to be. It ain't like I'd hang around the house anyway. I hate that place," Dally growled. "But I ain't going back. And I ain't going back to school either."

Johnny looked up, surprised.

Dally gave him a grin. "Oh, don't look surprised. I barely ever show up anyway, kid."

"Still…" The thought that Dally might be there sometimes was a nice thought. But Dally never being there? That sounded horrible. "You're too smart for that, Dal."

Dally laughed out loud at that. "Are you kidding kid? I ain't the school type. Even if I was, I ain't gonna waste my time there. Forget that."

Johnny nodded. "You think it'll help? Getting away from your dad and dropping out of school?"

Dally shrugged.

"I think it'll help," Johnny said softly. "You know what else Dal? I believe in you and I think you're gonna go far. You ain't gonna be held back. " It was something he knew Dally rarely heard, if ever, and something he needed to hear.

Dally nodded, turning his head away, though Johnny could still see a small smile on his face. "You know what kid? You ain't too bad."

It was the same thing Dallas had said just a few minutes ago but Johnny knew that in Dally language it meant way more. And for him to say it twice? Well, Johnny knew he had helped his friend. And it was the best feeling he'd had all month.

The minute the two of them walked into the Curtis house, Mrs. Curtis immediately started scolding Dally for not wearing a jacket and shoved one that Darry had outgrown at him to wear the minute he went back outside. Dally didn't tell anyone else about his rough night. He didn't mention his fight with his dad or his decision to never go back.

Instead, he started joking around with Mr. Curtis and the two of them were in the middle of horsing around when Mrs. Curtis set two bowls of soup on the table. "Boys, eat up. I bet you didn't eat tonight." Johnny immediately went to the table, thanking her and smiling appreciatively. Dally, however, didn't stop horsing around until Mrs. Curtis gave him "the look". Once he got "the look", however, he nodded, gave her a mischievous grin, and made his way to the table.

"Gotcha, Mrs. Curtis," he told her as he sat down and started eating. They were there for a couple of hours and the entire time Dally stuck a little closer to Johnny than usual.

But as the Curtises got ready for bed, Dally got up. "Alright. I'm going to…" He trailed off, glancing at Mrs. Curtis. "Home. I'm going home." He threw her a smile, pulled on the jacket, then went outside.

Johnny followed him out. "Where ya going man? Why don't you stay here?"

"Nah, I'm gonna go to Buck's."

Johnny opened his mouth to tell him that was ridiculous and he should just stay here when Dally shook his head and said, "I'm going to Buck's. You can stay here tonight." He smiled at his friend. "Thanks Johnnycake. I know I'm not the easiest guy to be around when I'm upset but somehow you're always there. I appreciate it." He hit his friend lightly on the shoulder then turned and walked away.

Johnny smiled after his friend, nodding his head slowly. "Yeah… Anytime man," he said softly even though he knew his friend couldn't hear him. He went back inside the house.

"Is Dallas okay?" Mrs. Curtis asked him, looking up.

Johnny thought a minute then nodded. "You know what? I think so." And he did.

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**Hope you guys liked it! Remember that you can request one! :)**


	3. Two-Bit and Darry

**Alright! Here is the next chapter! It's Darry and Two-Bit, requested by GreaserGirlSodapop! Hope you like it!**

**Story Three**

**Darry and Two-Bit**

**"From Brother to Brother"**

The house was quiet, much too quiet. As Darry pushed his dinner around his plate, he glanced at the couch where Sodapop was sitting with his food, also not eating. He opened his mouth to say something then looked back down at his food. There was nothing he could say. Things were strained between him and Soda right now, which was rare. But even if they weren't they were both too depressed and worried to talk as if nothing was happening.

"Well, this is a dull house hold," Two-Bit proclaimed from his place on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm going to bed." Soda got up. He took his plate to the kitchen, tossed the leftovers, rinsed the plate, then jogged to his room

"Might as well head home myself." Steve got to his feet. "Later guys." He walked out of the house. Giving up on food, Darry pushed his plate away. He was too worried to eat. Ponyboy was out there somewhere. Sure he had Johnny with him but it wasn't the same as being looked after by his brothers. He didn't have Darry or Soda now to look after him.

Guiltily, Darry put his face in his hands. Look after him. Is that was Darry had done? He'd been impatient with Pony for months then finally lost his temper and slapped him. He hit his own brother. What was wrong with him? He was there to love his brothers and keep them happy. But he hadn't been doing that.

"_He thinks you hate him! And I stuck up for you! "He doesn't mean to sound like that! He just worries a lot!" But you know what Darry? You chased him away! It was you!"_

Soda's furious words the night Pony had ran off rang in his head. He didn't hate Ponyboy. He couldn't hate Ponyboy. He was worried about him. He had to keep him safe. He had to look after him. That was the most important thing. But all of that stress to make sure Pony was alright ended up being the thing that tore their family apart.

"You gonna eat that?"

Darry looked up at Two-Bit who was pointing at the food. Darry shook his head and Two-Bit sat across from him, pulling the plate to him. "You okay there Dare?" Two-Bit asked.

"I'm fine."

Two-Bit eyed him then shook his head. "Nah."

"Nah?"

"Nah. I don't buy it." He cocked an eyebrow. "Come on."

"I'm fine, okay?" Darry got up and went into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr."

Darry turned around, raising his eyebrows at his friend. "Did you just middle name me?" Hearing Two-Bit take a commanding tone with him almost made him crack a smile. It was comical, that was for sure. If circumstances were different he probably would have even laughed.

"That's right I did. Now sit your ass down and talk to me Superman."

"I'm not Superman, okay? I'm no hero. I can't even keep my family safe."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

Darry sighed then sat down and set his glass on the table. "I'm worried sick about Ponyboy," he confessed. "But it ain't like I have much of a right. I'm the one who drove him off."

"That ain't true!" Two-Bit said exasperatedly. "What is it with this family? Is Sodapop the only one with his head on right? Golly! Pony thinks you don't like him, you think Pony don't like you! Boy golly, can't you all just see it how it is? You care too much and you worry too much which makes you controlling and overbearing. That then makes Ponyboy think "I can't do nothing right, he must hate me" which just ain't true. Then Ponyboy's actions make you think you can't relate to him and you all can never be the family you used to be which makes things more strained! You're sort of like one of them soap operas!"

Darry stared at him for a moment then leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his jaw with his hand, thinking it over. "I still could've been better. I didn't let him see that I…" He trailed off and turned his gaze to his lap.

"Yeah, man, it ain't going well. But it ain't over. You know those two can handle themselves. They'll be back. And you lot will fix things. You know why?"

Darry didn't say anything.

"Come on, man. Just ask me why."

Snorting the smallest of chuckles, Darry asked, "Why?"

"Because you're the Curtises. You're a great family and you know what? Pony knows what you gave up for him, man. As a fellow big brother I can only hope that I'm half the big brother you are."

Darry shook his head. "Even Sodapop thinks I'm making a mess out of things."

Two-Bit shook his head. "What kind of week is he having? I know Soda's generally the happy one of us all but right now he needs someone to blame. Sorry man but that's you right now. Honestly though I doubt it'll even last all week."

"He's pretty mad. But I'm pretty mad at me too."

"See that there is part of the problem. You gotta get your head on straight and work on forgiving yourself if you want things to get better." Two-Bit was quiet for a minute before saying softly, "you know what the biggest problem here is? Dude you've had to grow up too fast. You've been forced to act like you're 40 and you're only 20. You don't remember what it's like to be 14. I think it scares you."

Darry looked up, furrowing his brow. "It scares me? Where're you going with this?"

"Yeah. Man, what you remember from being a teenager is staying out late and getting in fights and doing teenager stuff. You don't want Pony to do that stuff. If he gets in trouble they could get dragged away from you. That's your biggest fear. Losing them. Everyone has a breaking point. Even Superman. That's yours."

Two-Bit was right. He was completely right. Darry looked at the table again. "I let him run off. Even if he does come back what if they drag him away?"

Two-Bit snorted. "They ain't gonna do that. They ain't blind. You're what's best for them both. Especially when you realize Pony's gonna make mistakes. He's 14 years old man. He's just a kid. You gotta stop treating him like he's your age. I know he's a genius and he skipped a grade and all but he ain't grown up yet. He's gonna overreact and he's gonna see things differently. You gotta stop acting like he's doing wrong all the time."

"Did he ever talk to you about it?"

Two-Bit hesitated for a long time then finally admitted, "Once. He wasn't really talking to me. He was talking to Cherry Valance. It was that night Johnny and Ponyboy got jumped. Anyway, he was talking to Cherry about it and that was the first I ever heard of it."

"I've really messed up."

"Come on, man. Stop torturing yourself. It ain't gonna help. You need to go to bed, get some rest, and then talk things over with Soda tomorrow."

Darry sighed and shook his head. "I know. I just… Two-Bit, I don't know how I can do this."

"You don't know how you can do it?" Two-Bit shook his head. "Darry, you're the most capable guy I know." He got up and sat in the chair beside his friend. "I don't know if I could do what you're doing. If something happened to my mom… I don't know if I could hold it all together. I hope I could but I dunno. Dare you're a really good big brother. You can turn this around. It's gonna be okay."

"You think so?"

"I know so man. You got this. You'd do anything for your family. From brother to brother, you're good." Two-Bit gave him a small smile. "If anyone can fix this it's you."

"Thanks, Two-Bit."

Two-Bit nodded. "No problem, man… Now get some sleep okay? I'm going to crash on your couch."

Darry nodded and got up. "Alright. Thanks again Two-Bit. And you know, from brother to brother, your sister's awful lucky to have you. I think you'd handle a situation like ours just fine." He went down the hall to bed. He knew for certain Two-Bit would be able to handle it. After all, he was a heck of a friend. For the first time since Pony and Johnny ran off, Darry wasn't sitting up in the armchair watching the door. If anyone came in, Two-Bit would be there.

He landed on the bed, knowing he'd still be listening for the sound of the door or the phone but at least he'd be in bed doing it. Then he started to think about what he could do to make things with Ponyboy better.

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**I hope you guys like it! Please drop me a review :) and remember that you can request a pair or a scenario or anything like that! **


	4. Johnny and Ponyboy

**Alright! This was requested by Dramaholic74 and AlongTheBinding. I'm so sorry this one took me so long guys! It's been oddly busy. Anyway, it's up! I hope you like it!**

**Story Four**

**Johnny and Ponyboy**

Ponyboy Curtis rolled over onto his side, closing his eyes. He had to sleep. It was a school night. Darry would kill him if he knew he was still awake. Pony rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Soda?" he whispered. "You awake?'

He was answered by some slight mumbling, letting him know his brother was out like a light. Sighing, Ponyboy slowly slid out of bed. He'd get a glass of water or something. Maybe he'd make some tea, like his mom used to do for him whenever he couldn't sleep. He felt an ache in his chest as he thought about her.

His parents had died only about two months ago. Darry had taken guardianship and right now things were interesting. They were all adjusting still. Darry was becoming more and more strict, stricter than their parents had been. He and Ponyboy didn't talk as much as they used to but he wouldn't call things bad. Not really, anyway. Right now their parents were always on all of their minds and no one wanted to talk about it. So no one really talked.

Besides, Darry barely had time for a conversation. He was adjusting to working so much and barely did anything besides eat, work, and sleep.

Slowly, Pony made his way down the hallway. He got his cup of water then sat on the couch, not bothering to turn on any lights. He felt someone underneath him, however, and jumped up, causing some of his water to splash out of the cup.

"Ponyboy?"

Pony looked down at the couch and grimaced at Johnny Cade. "Sorry, man."

Johnny rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I can't sleep." Pony bit his fingernails for a few minutes then stopped when he realized he was doing it. He glanced at Johnny, who was watching him. Silently, Johnny stood up and walked to the door. He motioned for Pony to join him then the two of them slipped outside.

The boys sat down on the porch steps and Pony rubbed his arms. It was colder than he had expected. All he was wearing was an old T-shirt and some sleep pants.

Johnny looked at him, black eyes tearing into him questioningly.

Pony heaved a sigh and scuffed the bottom porch step with his shoe. "I miss mom and dad," he confessed. "But… But I'm worried about Darry." Johnny raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised at the answer. "I don't think he wants to be here. I hate holding him back. He could do a lot but instead he's stuck here with us."

"Ponyboy…. I don't think he's stuck here," Johnny said softly. "He didn't have to take you and Soda."

Ponyboy shrugged. "Sure. But still. He wouldn't just let us go to a boys' home. Darry ain't like that. I know he loves us. But I almost wish he didn't. I hate the guilt." He glared at the ground, hating the fact that his parents were dead and that almost two months ago his brother had had to give up his life and his future to take care of them. He hated seeing Darry work so much and come home so tired.

Darry was always working, sleeping, cooking, or cleaning. He never had time for anything anymore. He didn't talk to his old friends very often. Ponyboy knew that they, especially the ones that were Socs, didn't understand what he was doing. They thought it was stupid, insane. He was throwing his entire future away.

"He deserves better than this. He worked hard to try to make something of himself and now he can't. He's stuck with us for the next four and a half years. Who knows if he'll ever get out. Might be too late for him by the time we're both out of the house." Pony glared out at the street light.

Johnny was quiet but Pony knew he was listening. He always listened.

"Ya know, I'm the one holding him back."

That obviously took Johnny by surprise. He looked at his friend. "How do you figure that?"

"Sodapop'll be turning 18 next year. That leaves me." Pony picked up a stick and ran it along the steps.

"He don't blame you." The surprise was still easily recognizable in his voice.

"You don't know that." His voice was sharper than he meant it to be. Pony looked away guiltily.

Johnny was quiet for a while before speaking again. "No," he said quietly. "I guess I don't. But I know Darry. I know him as well as you do. He ain't doing it because he feels he has to."Pony merely shrugged and Johnny sighed, "He loves you a lot. Both of you."

When Ponyboy still didn't look up, Johnny shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around his friend's shoulders. "You look like you're about to freeze," Johnny told him quietly. Pony looked up at him gratefully.

"He's too you young to be a dad…" Ponyboy whispered after a minute.

Johnny nodded his head slowly. "I know… But you know…" He trailed off as if he was thinking for the best words. Ponyboy looked up again. "He's gonna be a great one. And not cause he has to be. It ain't like he had to get married or nothing. He wanted to do this."

"It ain't fair," Pony said softly. "He misses them too. He wants Mom and Dad back too but he gotta act like it's all okay. I think he thinks he can't show us he hurts too. He gotta be strong all the time."

Johnny nodded slowly. He watched his friend for a long time then whispered, "I miss them too Pony…"

Ponyboy looked up at him then a few tears escaped. "Nothing's the same anymore…"

"I know, man."

"Darry ain't supposed to be a dad at 20. And we ain't supposed to be orphans."

Johnny wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders silently.

"T-today, when we asked Darry if we could have chocolate cake for breakfast tomorrow… Mom would have been exasperated…. I could just see her rolling her eyes and scolding Darry for letting us…" Pony buried his face in his hands. "It ain't fair."

"I know."

Pony cried for a few minutes and Johnny hugged him. When he was done, Johnny said, "Let's go on in, man. I'm freezing."

Pony nodded and handed Johnny back his jacket. The two of them went back in the house. Johnny grabbed Pony by the elbow before he could retreat back to his room. "Listen, man. Darry loves you both a lot. He ain't going anywhere." Again, he hit it right on.

Pony stared at him, wondering how on earth he knew his secret fear. That Darry would change his mind. Johnny gave him a small smile and Pony knew the answer. Johnny knew him better than almost anyone. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

"He ain't gonna regret it either." Johnny let him go and tossed his jacket on the couch. "So go on to bed, get some rest, and stop your worrying." He smiled at his friend.

Ponyboy couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Johnny."

Johnny nodded and sat back down on the couch.

Ponyboy jogged back down the hall. He trusted Johnny. If Johnny didn't think Darry resented him or was going to leave him… Well, that was good enough for Pony. He still felt uneasy but sitting with Johnny had been comforting. He didn't need to have a lengthy conversation. He had just needed someone to let him get it out and sit with him. He needed someone to listen. Guys who will just sit and listen... Well, they're awful hard to find.

It was days like this that he knew he'd never know anyone else like Johnny Cade. But that was good. There was only one Johnny Cade and they were lucky enough to have him.

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**I hope you liked it! Remember you can request a pair if you want! They'll be added to the list :) **


	5. Two-Bit and Johnny

**Here we go! Johnny and Two-Bit, requested by VoicesOffCamera. :) I hope you guys enjoy it! Just a heads up, this may be the last update for just a couple of weeks. I'm going on a trip with some friends and I'm not sure if I'll have time to write or not! So I'm not positive but we'll see!**

**Story Five**

**Two-Bit and Johnny**

**"We Couldn't Get Along Without You"**

Johnny winced as the broom came back down and hit him. He'd heard of kids being chased out of the house with brooms before but this was much more extreme. He scooted away from her and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the beatings would stop.

And then… The next hit didn't come. Johnny looked up to see Two-Bit standing there, blocking the broom. Johnny scooted away more then got to his feet. Two-Bit loped to his side and wrapped an arm around him in support.

Swearing viciously, Two-Bit helped him to the park while Johnny got his bearings. "You okay, Johnnycake?" he asked, turning his stormy gray eyes to him. Johnny shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't a talkative guy, he never had been. But he was feeling particularly quiet right now. He generally was after being beat or hollered at.

Not to mention that while he felt grateful to Two-Bit, he couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed that Two-Bit had had to help him at all.

Two-Bit sighed and sat down on a park bench. "What happened?"

Johnny slowly sat down beside his friend and stared out at the kids playing on the slide. After a few minutes of feeling Two-Bit staring at him impatiently, he said quietly, "Nothing special."

He heard his friend scoff but didn't look over. More silence fell between them. Johnny listened to the kids squealing with laughter and joy and wondered what it was like. What _was_ it like to have a childhood with parents who loved you and took you to the park? He tried to imagine a childhood where he didn't have to wear a sweatshirt or a long sleeved shirt when out with one of his parents to hide the bruises.

"Well, okay," said Two-Bit with a tone of finality. "That's just fine. I'll just sit here until you talk to me about it."

Johnny glanced over at his friend, who had turned his gaze to the playing kids. He sighed and turned away again. He already knew he could easily outlast Two-Bit. If it were Ponyboy with him this wouldn't be a problem. They sat in silence all the time. But that kind of thing didn't appeal to Two-Bit. Two-Bit liked to talk. A lot. Johnny had figured that out within five minutes of meeting him.

Johnny watched as a young boy fall while climbing up to the slide. The kid sat on the ground for a few minutes before he started bawling. Johnny's gaze flitted to a young woman sitting with her friends under a tree. She got up and met the child as he started running to her. Then she hugged him close and rubbed his back.

It made Johnny's stomach flip with envy. As hard as he tried to not be jealous of people with good parents, he couldn't help but wish that he had that. He'd witnessed it first hand at the Curtis house and even though it had been directed his way a lot it just wasn't the same as going home to it.

He heard a long, drawn out sigh beside him and a small smile tugged on his lips reluctantly. His eyes darted to his friend, who was drumming his fingers on his knee. He started making a humming sound in his throat as he did it and fidgeted.

Johnny waited for him to give up, truly fighting a real smile now.

Then Two-Bit let out a long groan. But he didn't say anything. Johnny realized that he had just done what many teachers had tried and tried to do. He had shut up Two-Bit Mathews. Two-Bit would sit there for hours if Johnny didn't say anything. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to help.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," Johnny finally whispered.

Two-Bit slowly looked at him, obviously not expecting that. "What? Be quiet? It's good for me sometimes I guess. That's what everyone says anyway." He rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean, man."

Two-Bit nodded slowly, looking at the grass at their feet. "Man, I'd wrestle a gun away from someone for you. We all would. A broom don't seem like much."

"You shouldn't have to…."

"Shucks, kid… The world ain't perfect. But if you want the truth sometimes I wish we could trade families. I think you deserve mine more than I do. You deserve more than most guys."

Johnny looked up, surprised and touched beyond belief.

Two-Bit sighed. "I know it bugs ya somethin' awful. I try to make up for it. But I know there ain't nothing I can ever do. What got her so mad this time?" he asked softly.

Johnny turned his dark gaze back to the ground, feeling his ears grow hot. "I accidentally broke a plate… She didn't like the way I was sweeping it up. Took the broom from me then called me…" He trailed off but he knew he didn't have to finish.

A tense silence fell between them and he knew Two-Bit was growing angry. His friend had always hated the way his parents yelled at him, especially the names they called him. The main one was stupid. That was their favorite and it was the one that got to him the most.

"Listen here, Johnnykid." He went on to call Johnny's parents every bad name in the book, throwing in a few Johnny hadn't even ever heard of before. "You don't listen to them, ya dig?"

Johnny nodded, throwing his friend a smile.

Two-Bit sighed, seeing through the fake smile instantly. "I know this ain't ideal. But you know what? Someday you and me are gonna have a place. One of the other boys can move right in with us and it'll be a party every day." He threw an arm around his buddy's shoulders. "Maybe you, me, and Dal. Boy, that'd be fun. Think of all the trouble we'd get into."

This time the small smile on Johnny's face was genuine.

"Instead of coming home to fighting and the like you'd come home to a lot of cheerful swearing and laughing. And, of course, my wonderful jokes."

Johnny scoffed, feeling his smile growing. "Yeah, alright."

Two-Bit grinned at him. "I take real offense to that."

"I imagine so."

"Look at Johnny getting' mouthy."

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. Two-Bit loved it when Johnny got mouthy with him. It didn't happen too often but it always made Two-Bit's grin grow wider.

"Ah," Two-Bit said, looking towards the sky. "We couldn't get along without ya kid. I mean it." He fixed him with a rare, serious look. "You keep us good an' as honest as we could possibly get. It ain't easy to find a guy you can count on and when you do…" Two-Bit looked back at the sky. "Well, you best treat him right so he don't find himself better pals."

Johnny looked up. He'd never heard Two-Bit talk like this. "Thanks Two-Bit," he said softly.

"Ain't no problem."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip before saying, "Boy, I sure miss 'em."

Two-Bit looked at Johnny strangely then understood and nodded slowly. "Yeah, kid. I know."

The death of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had shaken them all up. It was a reminder of how fragile life was. Besides, they'd know what to say. They always knew what to say.

"They were awful proud of you," Two-Bit said softly. "You know that? For always bein' such a good friend no matter what kind of day you had at home. You could've taken it out on any of us but you never did. They mentioned it to me lots."

Johnny looked at him gratefully. "You too, man. They loved you like their own."

Two-Bit smiled at him then made a face and looked up. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"I swear, I felt something wet. Didn't you feel it?""

"No."

Thunder cracked and it started pouring. Both boys jumped to their feet and started running down the street.

"I told you!" Two-Bit hollered, laughing joyously.

"Aw, shut it!" Johnny chortled, pulling his jeans jacket up over his head the best he could.

Two-Bit let out a whoop as he picked up his speed. The two of them reached the Curtis house and slowed their pace as they got to the safety of the front porch.

Johnny let his jacket fall to its normal spot on his shoulders and shook his head to try to get some of the water out of his hair. Two-Bit was still laughing loudly. He grinned at his friend and shook his head.

As Johnny reached for the door handle, Two-Bit stopped him. "Listen, kid. I mean it when I say we couldn't get by without you. So don't you ever start thinkin' you don't matter to no one. We need you a hell of a lot more than you think. And, just so you know, it don't matter if your folks are proud or not. I'm proud. So is the gang. And so were the Curtises."

Johnny nodded his head slowly and Two-Bit watched him for a moment, as if trying to decide if Johnny really got it or not. Then he nodded, seeming satisfied, and opened the door.

"We're ho-o-ome!" he called loudly.

"Yeah, I know," Steve said dryly. "I could hear you laughing from out there."

Two-Bit grinned and spread his arms. "I know how to make an entrance."

"Or something," Steve muttered. Two-Bit tackled him to the ground without any further prompting and the two wrestled for a few minutes.

Johnny glanced around the house at everyone, taking it all in. Two-Bit and Steve were the loudest with their wrestling match. Second to them was Soda, cheering loudly and happily from the couch. Ponyboy was at the table with his homework and Darry was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with an amused grin. Dallas strode out of the bathroom and cocked an eyebrow at the two wrestling on the ground before rolling his eyes with a grin.

Johnny thought about what Two-Bit said. He still thought he needed them way more than they needed him but Two-Bit's words had hit him hard. They meant something for sure. Days like today was usually when he'd talk about killing himself. He knew Two-Bit had sensed that and wasn't about to let that talk start.

Sure, a lot of people had parents who cared. But a lot of people never had a group of friends as great as this one. That was an area where Johnny was lucky.

Did it make the pain from his folks stop hurting? Not at all. But it made life a hell of a lot more bearable.

As Two-Bit pinned Steve and let out a triumphant whoop, Johnny laughed to himself and stepped over the pair of them to join Ponyboy. Sometimes all he needed was to have someone to be proud of him and, almost more importantly, someone to stand by him.

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**Remember you can request and I'll add it to my list. :) Thanks for reading!**


	6. Ponyboy and Steve

**A/N: Here we go with the next chapter. This is later than I expected to post it but to be honest I had some trouble with inspiration. However,I watched Apocalypse Now this afternoon and it just hit me. So here we go. I added some song lyrics with it this time. It just fit. The song is The End by the Doors. I highly recommend it. It's a great one. Also, j****ust a heads up that Charlie was a term sometimes used for Vietnamese soldiers. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy it!**

**This one shot was requested by xxLiveLoveReadxx. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders or The End**

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**Story Six**

**Ponyboy and Steve**

**"This is the End"**

_**This is the end**_

_**Beautiful friend**_

_**This is the end**_

_**My only friend, the end**_

_**Of our elaborate plans, the end**_

_**Of everything that stands, the end**_

_**No safety or surprise, the end**_

A horrible red, orange color tore into the air and a horrible, loud, gut wrenching sound worse than thunder split the sky.

A few men cheered, some swore at the enemy that were now nothing at all.

But he had a horrible hollow feeling in his gut. Oh, he hated them all right. Damn Charlie. If it weren't for them they wouldn't be here at all. But some days he hated his side more.

Death was nothing to celebrate. He'd learned that at a very young age. It was a lesson no one else here seemed to know.

Suddenly, a gunshot ripped by him. Stunned, he whipped around to see one of his comrades, one of his friends, the one person who reminded him even a little of his friends back home, fall to the ground with a hole in his gut.

The order to run was given but he ignored it, running to his friend. He fell to his knees beside him, desperately trying to think of something to do. Something to save him.

The soldier was trying to talk, trying to form words of some sort. Maybe he wanted to tell him to find someone for him. To give a message to his family. He'd do it. He'd do anything this man wanted. It was in that moment that he realized his friend was going to die here in the jungle. He didn't deserve to.

The man put a picture in his hand with a horrible, painful effort then closed his fist around it.

Someone grabbed him from behind and wrenched him to his feet, pulling him along with the moving soldiers. He looked behind him desperately to see his friend move slightly and then fall still.

* * *

With a strangled cry, Steve Randle to the floor. His breath was coming out in heavy gasps and he could feel his entire body shaking uncontrollably. The room was pitch black and he looked around wildly, trying to figure out where he was.

Maybe it was all a dream. He hadn't gotten home. He was still out there. At any minute he was going to have to get back to the horror of it all. The horror…

The light flicked on but he barely noticed it. He closed his eyes, trying to convince himself to realize it. He was home. He was really home. It was okay. He was sleeping in the Curtis' living room, just like old days.

He opened his eyes and looked down. He was twisted in a sheet, drenched in sweat. He looked up to see who had turned on the light, knowing that he looked like a mess. He could feel his heart pounding so fast that he thought he might have a heart attack and he knew that his wide eyes betrayed his terror.

Seeing Ponyboy standing there watching him, he tore his gaze away from him again, face hardening.

"I'm fine," he said harshly. "Go back to bed." He slowly untangled himself from the sheet, throwing it to the side and swearing at it softly. "Darry still asleep?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Steve glanced up at him. "Seriously, kid, I'm fine. Go to bed."

Pony still lingered. "No. And I ain't a kid anymore. I'm sixteen. I'll be seventeen soon."

Steve scoffed. "Being a kid don't have to do with age."

"Wise talk for a grease," Pony said lightly, sitting down on the floor near his brother's best friend.

A strange look passed over Steve's face. "There's a lot more to this world beside Soc and grease," he spat bitterly. "A whole lot more."

"And a lot more to those other people than just a rumble."

Steve's eyes flashed furiously. "You don't know the half of it kid. Go back to bed. Let me rest."

Ponyboy watched the young veteran get up off the floor and throw himself off the couch. "You gotta talk to someone."

"You ain't exactly my first choice."

"Yeah, your first choice isn't here," Pony shot back firmly.

Steve looked at him, shocked. Soda had been drafted about eight months after Steve had and he was still out there fighting. Steve had just gotten home himself and he hated to think about Soda still out there. So did Ponyboy. And Pony never even mentioned it. But Steve didn't let his face soften at all from his surprise. He didn't want the kid bugging him right then. He wanted to be left alone. "Yeah and who knows if he's coming back."

"He'll be back."

"You don't know what it's like out there."

"I know. But I have faith." Pony looked up at him stubbornly. "Maybe you should too."

Steve scoffed a laugh. "Kid, if I ever had any I sure as hell don't now."

"Maybe it'd help to talk about it."

"You don't just talk about the shit that went down there." He shakily grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the floor and his lighter and lit up. "It don't go away when you talk about your feelings."

Pony shrugged his shoulders. "Might help."

"Kid, you don't get it. I've seen men better than you go crazy in that heap. You ain't been. You don't understand."

"I could easily go," the kid said quietly.

Steve's gaze snapped to him. He had never thought about that. But Pony was right. He was nearly seventeen. One more year and they could get him too. But they couldn't. They couldn't. The thought of the kid going scared him almost worse than the idea of going back himself did. After Johnny died, Pony had become the one they looked out for. He was the kid of the group.

Steve had never spent much time with him. He'd never really talked to him. But he knew Pony meant a great deal to Soda and that was enough. His best friend would need to know the kid was safe. Soda would be a wreck if anything happened to him. So would everyone really.

"That ain't gonna happen. War's gotta end soon." He looked up at the ceiling. "They don't go on forever."

Pony said nothing and that was worse than anything he could say. Steve pulled his weed away from his lips, gritting his teeth. This war sure made a mess of things. He took another drag.

"I used to like fighting," he said softly before he even registered he was saying it. "It was just a way to blow off steam. But I had no idea what it could do… You learn about it in school but the real thing… It ain't nothing like that." He closed his eyes tightly and he could suddenly see the sky lighting red and orange with explosions. If it weren't so disastrous and so brutal it'd be beautiful.

"I remember a few years back you asked us all why we liked fights. I liked the violence of it. I liked getting back. I liked letting the hate out." He blew a string of smoke from his lips. "Don't get me wrong here kid… I hate the enemy. I hate them. I hate them so much I could just…" His voice started shaking and he took a deep breath then another drag. "But we ain't any better. Not really. There's something wrong with that. When you look at the men you're supposed to be able to trust and you know they'd blow you away in a second if they though it would help them. You don't know who to trust over there. Some of them would do anything to live to get home. Those are the ones that ain't so bad… They ain't so scary."

He glanced at the kid, whose green eyes were fixed on him, wide and mesmerized. But they were also horrified. He looked back at the ceiling.

"The real threat are the guys who have lost the will to go home. They don't want this war to end. Killing and sneaking… It's become their life. There's nothing for them anywhere else. Yeah…" He sat up and out his cigarette out in the makeshift ash tray he had sitting on the table on the end of the couch. "They're the ones that are dangerous. You got one of them leading you and you're screwed. I ain't saying they'll get you killed. Hell, they're good soldiers. But they're too good. With them, you ain't got a chance of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. With them there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Not unless it's from a bomb of some sort." He gave a light, humorless chuckle. "You're just another gun hand to them."

"What kind did you have leading you?"

Steve looked at him seriously. "I was just a gun hand to my sergeant. Last thing he wanted to do was go home."

Ponyboy took in a sharp breath and Steve lit up another cigarette. He'd always been a heavy smoker but now he could count on one hand the number of times he'd only smoked a pack a day.

"Things ain't right out here," he said simply. "You wanted it straight. There's a taste of it. You hate the enemy but some days you hate yourself more. That's what it's like."

Pony stared at him and he could feel the kid working through it, studying him. It sure was uncomfortable but Steve's nerves were too worked up right now to snap at him. He had to focus to try to calm down at all. Keeping his voice steady was a real trick.

"Did you ever think you were going to die?"

"Every damn day." He scoffed. "Maybe that's why I never did. To be honest, I never really truly thought I'd get home. I just assumed that if I didn't die out there the war would never stop and they'd never let me go." He voice shook again. "No. No one ever really gets home."

"You got home," Pony said softly.

"Not intact. Not even close. Part of me is still out there. Always will be." He took up his sergeant's voice and said, "You're a soldier now Randle. Better embrace it. It's all you'll ever be now." He put his cigarette to his lips but didn't take a drag. "He wasn't wrong. I can tell it already." He took a long drag.

Pony watched him for a minute then said, "Sorry, but that's bullshit."

Steve nearly choked on his smoke out of shock. "What'd you just say?" He almost felt amused. He'd never really heard the kid swear. Especially not at him. He always felt like the kid was almost afraid of him.

"You heard me. You can be whatever the hell you want to be. Someone once said to be, "Don't be so bugged over being a greaser. You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still lots of good in the world." That applies here too. Just swap greaser for soldier. You served. You saw some stuff. It doesn't mean you can't snap out of this."

Steve digested that, trying to come up with something decent to reply with. He couldn't find anything so he finally just said, "Who was this guy?"

"It was Johnny."

That took him by surprise. He looked at the kid for a long moment, decided he was serious, and nodded slowly. "Kid knew more than people thought." He was quiet for a few more minutes as he smoked then he said softly, "But I don't know about this. It gets sort of stuck on you. Like a bad smell or a scar."

Pony gave him a look and that look alone was almost calling him stupid. "Do you let a scar define your life? I sure don't."

Steve stared at him. When in the world did the obnoxious kid he knew for so long grow up enough to lecture him? Where was he during all this? "It's a little deep to ignore," he said slowly.

"What do you call watching your best friend die and then seeing another friend die right after? It sure ain't a scrape. And don't say it. I know it is a scrap compared to being in Vietnam. I ain't an idiot. But I know we're a tough group here. And you can get past it. Life ain't ever been easy. But I didn't ever think I'd see the day when it beat Steve Randle."

Steve blinked at him slowly, processing what he said. "Fair enough," he said after several minutes.

Ponyboy nodded his head slowly then got up. "Want a cup of water? I want some water." He walked into the kitchen without another word and Steve stared after him. He cracked a grin and shook his head. There was something wrong with that kid. But he was starting to see everything Sodapop saw.

His head poked out of the kitchen again and he said, "Well? Water?"

"Yeah, sure."

A few minutes later a glass was shoved his way and he took it. He finished it quickly, still not used to the great taste water had back here. He set the empty glass down a minute later. He looked at the kid, who was working on his cup still.

"Hey, kid."

Ponyboy looked up.

"Thanks. You're an okay kid, Pony."

"Yeah." Pony grinned. "You too."

Steve gave a light chuckle and shook his head. "Yeah, all right. We should get some sleep."

"You sure you can get some?" Pony asked carefully.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I think I can."

Ponyboy nodded and got up, taking both glasses to the kitchen. He reappeared. "Night Steve."

"Night, Ponyboy." Steve lay down on the couch and the light flicked off. He blinked his eyes, taking a few minutes to calm his heart rate. Since he'd been back, being in the dark almost spooked him until his eyes adjusted. He hated not being able to see what was around him. That was how he could be sneaked up on.

He stuck his hand in his pocket briefly, feeling the photo his friend had given him just before he had died. It was of him and his girlfriend and he was supposed to give it to her. It had a small note for her on the back. Steve hadn't even really made himself to think about it yet. But now he realized it was time to start. He'd get her the message. He'd let her know how much her guy had loved her.

Steve folded his hands behind his head and glanced around. His eyes were starting to adjust and he felt better. He knew where he was. He was safe here. It was the Curtis house. It was home. He made it home.

And now he could recover. Now he could work on not being a soldier.

He was finally home.


	7. Sodapop and Ponyboy

**A/N: First of all, thank you all so much for the reviews. You guys are great and I love it when you review and request things! The list of one shots to write is so nice and long! I love it! You guys are the best ever! I mean it. This story would be nothing without every one of you. :)**

** Second, I'm messing up the order I usually go in here but I'm going to switch things around so that I can put some Vietnam themed one shots together. There are two counting this one in the works so I'll put them up and then get back to the usual order of things. I'm sorry for the inconvenience but I hope you like this! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders and I don't own the song Brothers by Dean Brody that I used the lyrics from.**

**Story Seven**

**Sodapop and Ponyboy**

**"I'll Always Be Your Brother"**

_**You come back you hear?  
And I let him see my tears  
I said I'll give you my rookie of DiMaggio.  
I'll do anything you want,  
Clean your room, or wash your car.  
I'll do anything so long as you don't go.  
But he said, this is what brothers are for.**_

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

Ponyboy Curtis didn't flinch in the slightest from the rain. He could hardly even feel it. None of this felt real. That was because it couldn't _be_ real. This day was never supposed to come. It should never ever have reached them.

He had been here too many times.

Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip.

The rain was turning from a drizzle to a real shower.

Ponyboy kept his head up as both the rain and tears fell down his face. He looked around briefly. There was Two-Bit, head bowed, gray eyes clouded over from hurt, and Steve, face hard and angry, tears welling in his dark eyes, and then Darry, who had tears running down his cheeks, unable to hold them back, just like pain was everywhere and nothing else seemed real. The pain and denial and an explainable panic was all he felt as he watched the casket be lowered into the grave.

It wasn't fair.

Dripdripdripdripdrip.

Now it was pouring.

As the ceremony ended, the teenager still didn't move. He stared at the grave, tears pouring out of his eyes. He had no idea where the tears ended and the rain started but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for the new and yet familiar feeling of pain and mourning. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

Dripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdripdrip.

The rain was such a cliche… Pony could almost hear his missing brother laughing at it for that reason. A fresh wave of pain stabbed him like a knife.

"Ponyboy," said a strained voice from far away. "Ponyboy, let's go home."

Home. He didn't want to go home. Home was never going to feel like a home again. It would never feel as friendly, inviting, joyous… It would never be as loud as it had been in the past and it would never be as creative.

Ponyboy ripped himself away, shaking his head. He was muttering under his breath, _what_ he wasn't quite sure himself. He felt himself move towards the grave even though he couldn't remember deciding to go to it. He knelt beside it.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

They couldn't have helped him. There was nothing they could have done. Absolutely nothing.

A sob escaped his lips as his cries increased drastically. He stared at the tombstone that had the name on it. The name of his hero. The name of his best friend.

_Sodapop P. Curtis._

With a strangled sob, Ponyboy sat bolt up right. He gasped for breath and looked around his room. He felt panic rise again when he saw the spot beside him empty but then he looked at the clock and realized it was late in the morning. Then he heard the water running and took a few deep breaths. It was okay.

Slowly, he got to his feet and got dressed slowly.

But this was the day.

And it wasn't okay.

Sodapop's last day in Tulsa. After today… After today he'd be off to boot camp to train for a war he never wanted to fight. What if he didn't come home? Lots of people didn't come home. It could be Soda next.

Pony shut his eyes tight, taking ragged breaths. He was getting ahead of himself but suddenly that reoccurring nightmare he'd been having didn't feel very far away. He slowly moved to the door, willing himself to be ready to face the day.

_Just go out there,_ he thought to himself. _Every second you waste here is a second you could have spent with Soda._

He pulled the door open just as Soda walked out of the bathroom, a towel tied around his waist. "Hey, sleepyhead. Finally joining the rest of us?" He gave him his characteristic grin and moved past him into the bedroom.

Pony glanced after him and shrugged, unable to take his eyes off his brother. What if this was the last day they ever spent together?

Soda raised an eyebrow. "Mind getting yourself out of the doorway and shutting the door so I can get dressed?"

"Sorry." Pony stepped out and shut the door behind him.

Darry looked up from the newspaper. "Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"

Pony merely shrugged.

"I know it's rough," Darry said softly. "But, listen, Two-Bit will be over in a bit and we gotta act as happy as we can. We want this to be a good day for Soda." He nodded, wishing Darry would stop watching him like that. "He'll be okay, little buddy."

He nodded and went into the kitchen. "What are we doing today?"

"This afternoon we're hitting the arcade," Darry replied. "Then going to Sal's Diner for dinner."

"Sure."

"The party is here!" called a cheerful voice from the doorway. Ponyboy looked over his shoulder as Two-Bit loped inside. Soda came downstairs and Pony looked between the two of them and Darry. He found it hard to believe that this was all that was left. Steve had been drafted eight months ago and was still out there. At least he was alive. But now they were losing Soda too. That would leave three of them.

Three left of eight.

A shudder escaped him. Trying to shake it off, he picked up his plate of chocolate cake and moved to the table. When would the loss be over?

Soda and Two-Bit were joking loudly and Darry was laughing but Pony knew that all of them felt as weary as he did. They couldn't afford to lose anyone else. Should they really have to? He poked at his cake, feeling sick.

He had no idea how to say goodbye to his brother. Whatever he said could be the last thing that passed between them.

Soda met his gaze and Pony managed to plaster on a smile. But he could tell from the dark look in his brother's eyes that he saw through it.

The day wore on and, despite his looming dread, Pony found himself having fun with the others. As usual, Soda's grin was contagious. He had a feeling that if it wasn't for that, even Two-Bit couldn't keep a happy face up.

Ponyboy grinned to himself as he watched Two-Bit and Soda loudly and competitively playing a game with each other. He looked at Darry, who was laughing and shaking his head. As he watched his oldest brother, he couldn't help but notice the pain hidden in his blue eyes.

He was jolted out of his thoughts as someone thudded into the seat beside him. "Hey, you know what I want to do?"

Pony looked at Soda. "What?"

"I want to beat your ass at a game."

Pony couldn't help a smile. "You think you can beat me?"

"Hell yes I do."

"You think you can beat me?" Pony repeated with more volume as he got to his feet.

"Hell yes!" Sodapop got to his as well, eyes bright.

"What are we playing?"

"Whatever we feel like playing!" Soda led the way through the arcade. "I can beat you at anything."

"Oh, yeah right."

"It's true."

"It is not! I'll beat you."

"Oh, no," Soda smirked. "I'm undefeated."

"I'm quacking in my boots."

"You ain't wearing boots smarty."

Ponyboy stuck out his tongue and was about to reply with a smart comment but Soda cut him off before he could. "Yes!" His older brother bounded to a machine and stuck a coin in it then started playing.

Pony had to laugh. It was one of the games set aside for kids, probably about ten or younger. But there was Soda, having the time of his life. As Pony reached him, Soda thew his arms into the air, grinning triumphantly. "26! I got a 26!" He grinned at Pony. "Beat that."

Taken off guard, Pony raised an eyebrow, unable to stop himself from grinning. "This game? This game right here? This is our contest."

"Hell yeah. Now buckle down and play." Soda grinned and slapped him on the shoulder before stepping back.

Ponyboy took his place in front of the machine and took his turn. He had to admit it was a fun game. Soda had good choice and these makers knew what they were making. When it ended, he nodded. "26."

"No!" Soda grinned and peered over his shoulder. "You too? Well, damn it! I wanted to hand you your ass! And I know I did better than you! This ain't right!"

Pony couldn't stop laughing. Soda joined him a second later, bending over and clutching his side with laughter. It didn't seem near as funny to anyone else there, they knew that. But to them it was the funniest thing in ages.

"Fine, fine. I got it," Soda gasped as the laughter finally slowed. "When I get home, we're coming right back here and doing a rematch."

"You're on." The two of them shook on it, both grinning competitively.

Maybe Soda hadn't sat with him and told him it would be okay until he pretended to believe him like he had expected, but he'd done something better. By doing this, being his big brother and laughing and talking trash about a kids' game and being so confident that they would get the chance to have a rematch, Pony felt a lot more reassured. His brother could handle anything. He really could. Besides, no world would be so cruel has to pull Sodapop Patrick Curtis from it at such a young age.

And, as Ponyboy looked at his brother's familiar wild and reckless grin, he had faith that he'd come home and that they'd have a rematch. On the other hand, he wasn't naive enough to think that he wasn't going to worry every day or have sleepless nights. It was going to suck.

But he was starting to think about when Soda got home, instead of when he didn't.

If anyone could get out of Vietnam, it would be his brother.

His wonderful brother who was so brave and tough. Soda could do anything, he really could. He was kind and empathetic, so he'd have a hard time out there but at the same time…. Pony had the feeling that because of that kindness and empathy he was going to touch at least one person's life. That was who Soda was. He'd impact people over there. There was no question in that.

"Come on, kid." Soda swung an arm around his shoulders. "I wanna get ice cream. You put up a good fight there, by the way." He heaved a dramatic sigh. "A worthy enemy you have become."

"Who talks like that?" Pony laughed, shaking his head.

"You got a problem with that buddy? Because we can go right over to some game and the trash talk can start again."

He laughed loudly. "We're cool."

"Well, good. 'Cause I'd hate to do nothing but trash talk you tonight." He fixed him with a mock serious look. "But I will if I have to."

Pony grinned. "Yeah, all right, Soda."

Soda grinned and pulled him closer, wrapping him in a headlock. Pony laughed and tried to get out of it but was unsuccessful. Soda let him go after a minute, grinning widely. "Hey, Pone?" The grin slowly started to fade and was replaced with a grim and serious look.

"Yeah?"

"You know I'll always be your brother. I know we can't talk like we do for a while," he said quietly, "but I'll always be thinking about you. And I'll write. And I'll be your big brother before anything else. That's just how it works."

Pony was quiet for a minute then nodded. "I know."

"Also…" Soda sucked in a deep breath. "I'm coming home. I really am."

He was quiet for a longer amount of time before responding this time. He thought over his answer. Of course he was going to say _I know_ but did he mean it? Did he really _know_ that? "Yeah," he said, "I know." And it was then that he realized he did.

"Good." Soda looked relieved as he smiled at him. "You remember that. You ain't getting off the hook with that game. Now, I'm going to go round up the others. Stay here so I don't lose you too, eh?" He bounded off and Pony looked after him.

Actions sure speak louder than words but it was nice to hear it from Soda too. They'd always be brothers and Soda was coming home. That was all he needed to know. It was enough. But honestly… It was more than enough.


	8. Darry and Soda

**A/N: So sorry this took so long! I'm having really really bad computer trouble but I've ordered something that should hopefully help. We'll see when it gets here! **

**Anyway, this chapter is Darry and Soda and credit for the prompt goes to VoicesOffCamera. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or the song Through Glass by Stone Sour.**

**Story Eight**

**Darry and Soda**

**"Through the Glass"**

_**I'm looking at you through the glass**_

_**Don't know how much time has passed**_

_**Oh, god it feels like forever**_

_**But no one ever tells you that forever**_

_**Feels like home sitting all alone in your head**_

_**...**_

_**How much is real? So much to question**_

_**As epidemic of the mannequins**_

_**Contaminating everything**_

_**When thought came from the heart**_

_**It never did right from the start**_

_**Just listen to the noises**_

_**(Null and void instead of voices)**_

_**Before you tell yourself**_

_**It's just a different scene**_

_**Remember it's just different from what you've seen**_

_**-Through Glass, Stone Sour**_

It was like being in one of those fun houses that aren't near as fun as everyone likes to pretend. People were shouting, guns were firing, and somewhere a bomb was going off. He wished it would stop. He wished he could lay his gun down and not kill anymore.

He looked around wildly for Reynolds, his closest friend out here. His eyes landed on him a few feet away, surrounded by soldiers from the other side. Heart leaping to his throat, he moved to his ally quickly. He had to help him. But then something unexpected happened.

Reynolds started firing everywhere and the soldiers were shouting, screaming, and dying. They were all falling to the ground like lead. He felt his heart contract, as it always did when he saw anyone die. It didn't matter to him what side they were on. He didn't want anyone here to lose a life. He couldn't help it.

But a new sound joined the explosions, the screams, and the gunshots. Laughter. His eyes shot up to Reynolds who was actually bellowing with laughter, a grin plastered on his face as he continued to blow these people away. His friend, his comrade, lifted his gaze to his as he shot at them, and he said, "Curtis, you see this? It's extermination. We're pest control."

A gun shot then ripped through Renyolds' chest and another and another. And as he died he fell back with that same wild grin on his face.

As he stared in shock at his dead, grinning friend he was reminded what they really were.

Soldier.

Killer.

Murderer.

_Monster._

* * *

"Soda?"

He jerked back to reality, looking up at his older brother, who was watching him with worried eyes. "You haven't touched your food."

"Oh." Soda looked down at it and felt his stomach twinge painfully. He pushed it away. "I'm not hungry."

"Soda…" It was Ponyboy's turn to fix his concerned gaze on him. Sodapop couldn't even bring himself to look at his younger brother.

"I'm going for a walk." Soda got up and walked out the door without a glance back.

How could he sit at the table with the brothers he loved so much and pretend nothing was wrong? How could someone like him- a murderer- sit with two people so pure? He couldn't. He didn't belong there. Soda reached into his pocket as he jogged down the porch steps and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He'd never been much of a smoker but he sure needed one for his nerves right now. If he was being honest, he used them for his nerves a lot lately.

Steve understood better than anyone. He'd been there. He knew what it was like. He knew the pain you felt when one minute you're there with a friend and the next minute you're there and they aren't anymore. He knew what it was like to look at your commander and try to figure out if they're making their decision because it's the right one or because they want to take down as many of the enemy as possible. He knew.

But even talking to Steve didn't bring the peace he had hoped for. When they talked there was something in Steve's eyes, something that he knew was in his as well. It was a shadow, a ghost, a darkness that reflected everything they had seen. Everything they had done.

His stomach dropped suddenly as he relived it all in great detail, each and every moment that had made him question his humanity, and Soda stumbled off the sidewalk and into some bushes near a house. He bent over and threw up, although he wondered how. He hadn't really had anything to eat recently. He wasn't hungry anymore.

Suddenly, a hand was on his back. Soda wiped his mouth and leaped away, turned quickly to see who it was.

It was Darry.

Soda let out a breath of relief. "You can't do that," he said as evenly as he could. "You're lucky I didn't turn on you." The moment the words were out of his mouth he felt like he'd be sick again. _You're lucky I didn't turn on you._ His words replayed again and again in his head. It was as if he were a dog who'd been kicked one too many times; one of those dogs that was considered a "bite risk". He couldn't be trusted.

"Pepsi-Cola…." Darry's voice was almost eerily calm. "Come here."

Soda looked at him wearily for half of a second then the very next thing he knew he was crossing to his big brother. And then he was slumped against him, shaking and crying against his will. Darry's arms were around him and they were suddenly the only things holding him up right.

"You're home," Darry whispered.

"No," Soda croaked. He pulled away and wiped his eyes. "No, you don't understand. It's like… I'm here. And I know I'm safe and I'm home. But at the same time it's… I'm not here with _you._"

Darry's eyebrows furrowed. "Soda, you're…"

"No." Soda shook his head. "Darry, listen. It's like there's something between us. I can see you but you're not there. Not really. There's a wall or something between us right now. It's just like I'm looking at you through the glass. And I still feel like… I still miss you guys." His voice broke. "I still miss the whole gang. I question everything, even how real this. After everything, it seems too simple. This can't be real. I can barely even tell how long it's been since I've left. It's just… Hell."

"Little buddy…"

Soda sat down on the grass suddenly, burying his face in his knees. "You can't begin to imagine, Dare… All the smells, all the sounds… All the screams." His voice cracked. "So many screams… And there is nothing you can do. Nothing. Not when you're causing half of them."

Darry sat down beside his little brother and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "Sweetie, all you were expected to do was survive."

"No. That wasn't all." Soda lifted his head and pulled out another cigarette. "I was expected to kill. That was my job, Darry. I'm not the Soda that left here. I'm a killer now." He lit up and brought it to his lips.

"You are not a killer," Darry said. Somehow he managed to be gentle and stern at the same time. "You survived. You did what you had to."

"I killed people, Darry. People with families." Soda felt the street lights and stars blur as tears gathered in his eyes. "People with things to live for. Once I shot this guy… He had to be my age. What if he had an older brother? An older brother that he knew wouldn't be able to handle anything happening no matter how strong he was? What if he had a little brother who looked up to him?" He wiped his eyes. "Now that family is shattered. Because of me. Because I wanted to survive. What kind of person am I?" Before Darry could speak, Soda continued, "All I can think is what would Dad say?"

"Dad?" The surprise in Darry's voice stuck out and would have made Soda smile if he felt like he could manage it. Rarely could you surprise Darry.

"Yeah. Dad." He blew out his smoke slowly before bringing it back to his lips. "You remember what he used to say."

"Dad used to say a lot," Darry said slowly, not taking his eyes off his younger brother.

Soda cracked a humorless half-smile. "Yeah. But this is something he repeated a lot. "To be a man is to have mercy. To have empathy." He always told us to remember that the other person is real too. You never know what they're going through. It could be the same as you." His mouth drew itself into a thin line as he thought those words over again in his head. "What is that boy I killed was forced to be there too? For all I know, he had more to live for than I did."

"Don't say that. Soda, you can't keep questioning this. You can't. You'll drive yourself crazy."

"Dare." His voice was quiet but commanded attention. He met his older brother's eyes and said softly, "I think it's too late for that."

"You're _not_ crazy."

Sodapop scoffed and turned away again, inhaling on his smoke. "I don't know. I might be. Those jungles… they're enough to drive anyone crazy. I saw it happen so many times… I went out there with someone I went to boot camp with, Brian Reynolds. He was a good guy, always calm. He'd be the first to cook up some joke to lighten the mood. He reminded me of good ole Two-Bit." He set his jaw as he remembered, his dark eyes hardening. "Darry, you should have seen him. We got there and he was still so calm. He saw the light when none of us could. But then he started to change… I watched a calm, almost innocent boy with no fighting experience at all become this… this warrior. You know, that's not even the right word." He looked up at the stars, hoping to get his gaze as far from Darry's as possible. It was getting harder and harder to look him in the eye. "He would have killed me if he thought he should. Hell, even if he was given the order but wasn't told why. He would have blown me away and I was his closest friend."

"Soda," Darry said softly but nothing could get Soda out of this trance now. He'd never spoken about Reynolds and now that he started he couldn't stop.

"You know, he really lost it Dare. When we went out there he'd be the last to shoot. The very last, including me. He couldn't imagine killing anything. The first time he shot someone in battle… He cried all night." He swallowed thickly and inhaled again, finding that his hand was starting to shake so bad it was tough to smoke. "But, you know, when those changes started… At first he was a hell of soldier. He went in, did his job, and that was that. He wasn't much of a risk. He wasn't so afraid that he was a trigger risk but he wasn't so cold that you had to question if he was all there. But that didn't last too long. He got to the point that…" He touched on the memory that haunted him the most, the one that kept him awake at night the most often, the one that would wake him from his sleep almost every night, and shuddered. "At one point, in one battle, he started shooting… He killed so many people…. And he laughed. He _laughed_ Darry. He called my name and said… said "Curtis, you see this? It's extermination. We're pest control." And he died there, Dare. He died with that same grin on his face. That wild laughter just stuck there forever. And from then on whenever we went into battle I could hear him. I could hear his voice saying "Remember, Curtis, it's pest control." And every time I could see that grin of his. Every damn time."

For once, Darry had nothing to say. "You see," Soda said softly, "I've changed. I've looked evil in the face; I've danced with the devil. And I don't even know which side it was." He dropped his cigarette and stomped it out before grabbing another and lighting it. "I've learned. I know, _I know_ that it isn't all right. I've seen what humanity is capable of and it's terrifying." He could tell from his brother's silence that he was really worrying him now. He had always been the one to see the good in the world, to stay so positive that everyone took it for granted that he had any problems at all. _Look at that_, he thought bitterly. _I found another thing about me that's changed._

Finally, Darry spoke. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis." He spoke his name plainly, not as if he wanted his attention or as if he had a question. He just said it. Soda felt his curiosity pricked and furrowed his eyebrows, almost turning to face his brother. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis." Darry repeated it slowly, carefully saying every syllable. "That is your name," Darry said so softly it was almost a whisper. "Look at me."

He didn't. He couldn't. How could he look at his brother's eyes- so blue, like _pure_ water- and be so tainted by the world.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis." _Now_ he was saying his name like their mom would when he was in trouble for something. Again, Soda couldn't get the strength to turn to him.

He heard movement and the next thing he knew Darry was kneeling in front of him, hands placed firmly on his shoulders. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis," he said again, softly this time. It wasn't commanding. Again, he was just saying it. Soda still avoided meeting his eyes.

"That is your name," Darry said clearly. "Not private. Not just Curtis. _Sodapop Patrick_ Curtis. You're Sodapop. You remember why we always thought it was so fitting for you? Because you're fizzy. You're bubbly and nothing keeps you down. You poor more stuff on you and you don't stay down, you fizz back up again."

"That's called carbonation," Soda said dryly, although his voice cracked. It didn't seem like him anymore. It seemed to him that he was staying down now.

"No. It's you. Soda, you are the strongest person I have ever met. Ever. You are going to get through this." Darry was quiet for a minute then he said, "No. You know what? You won't."

That shocked Soda to his very core. He looked up, finally meeting his brother's eyes, knowing that his brown ones were showing the hurt he felt. Even his own brother didn't believe in him anymore.

"You're going to do so much more than survive," Darry said softly. "You're going to _thrive_. Because you are Sodapop Patrick Curtis and that is what you do."

"I don't feel like I'm even the same person anymore," Soda whispered meekly.

"That's because you're thinking of yourself as Curtis or Private instead of Sodapop. You're treating yourself like a soldier."

"If I'm not a soldier then what am I?"

"That's easy," Darry said softly. "You're a mechanic. You're a greaser. You're a brother. You're a cook, a weird cook but a cook none the less. You're a friend. You're a son. And Dad is still as proud of you as he has always been, so is mom."

"How?" Soda croaked, feeling tears streaking down his face.

"Because you feel like this," Darry told him, pushing his hair back. "You're a mess and you're punishing yourself and beating yourself up. You feel bad. You are not Reynolds. You didn't laugh. You did not lose yourself out there. You're still you. And _you made it home_."

That was enough for Soda. He broke down, sobbing on his brother's shoulder. Darry took his cigarette from him and held him tightly for a long time.

When he finally gathered himself enough to pull away and wipe at his eyes, he said softly, "So you really think I'm still me?"

"I know it enough for both of us," Darry whispered. "Whenever you start doubting it, you come to me." He rested a hand on Soda's shoulder. "Because you ain't looking at me through the glass. I'm really here. You're really here. This is real."

Soda nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "Let's go home."

"Okay, little buddy." Darry got to his feet slowly, never taking his eyes off Soda. Soda stood up and brushed himself off then started down the street with his brother. He reached into his pocket and drew out his pack of cigarettes.

He looked at it for a moment and opened it then stopped. He could feel Darry watching him and maybe that was what made him close the pack and hand it to his brother. "What's this?" Darry asked. But Soda could tell he already knew by the smile playing at his lips.

"I'm Sodapop Patrick Curtis," Soda said, feeling a small smile prick at his own lips. "And Sodapop doesn't smoke."


	9. Steve and Ponyboy

**A/N: The idea for this chapter goes to Chick1996! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy this!**

**This one's a little different. It takes place during The Outsiders instead of after or before. It takes place the night before Soda runs out of the house.**

**Story Nine**

**Steve and Ponyboy**

**"Baiting for a Start"**

As he stared at the window, his imagination got away from him. He knew it was all in his head, he knew he was safe, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding away in his chest as he watched flames roar to life in front of the window, burning the curtains. His throat tightened and he closed his eyes. But he was too panicked to leave them shut.

Ponyboy Curtis watched as the room burned away, trying to tell himself to cut it out but he was already trapped in it. He rolled onto his other side, hoping to get away from it but as his older brother came into view a burning beam fell from the ceiling. His jaw dropped in horror as it landed on his brother's back. No, no, no. Not again. Not again. He could hear the doctor's voice, telling them if he lived he'd never walk again.

And then the flames vanished. Pony sat up, closing his eyes. He wanted it to be over. He didn't want to think about that day anymore. He just wanted it to be over. He swung himself out of bed without knowing where he was going. He just knew there was no way he could sleep.

He crept out of the room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. His heart was still pounding away in his chest. Oh, he just wanted it to go away. But what did he expect? Ever since the hearing, he'd felt all of it ten times worse. His heart wasn't in much of anything anymore. He felt too weighed down by all of this to really focus on anything at all. The only time it didn't hurt was the rare nights that he managed to sleep without nightmares. Man, he needed sleep.

But he had to calm down first. He began humming Elvis, which usually calmed him at least a little, and headed out to get fresh air. He glanced at the couch as he went outside. Steve Randle was spread all of it at a weird angle. He shrugged. It looked uncomfortable to him but he'd seen Johnny sleep in all kinds of weird and horrible looking positions at the church. Every time he asked, Johnny wold reply "Yeah, I'm comfortable" or "It was comfortable, man!" The latter was if Pony asked or teased him about it later.

Another pang hit his heart and Pony pulled the door open and slid outside. He sat on the porch steps, staring at the gate. He could remember Dallas leaned on the outside of it, laughing as he told Two-Bit to shut his dumb mouth or slamming it behind him as he came in then suppressing a grin when Pony's mom told him to be gentle. If she was outside that was always how their initial greeting would go. If she was inside, he was more likely to shut the gate more quietly then go inside and slam the door.

Ponyboy looked away from the gate, unable to stand it. Why did they have to lose both at once? Why did they have to lose any one, as a matter of fact? The loss of Mom and Dad was still fresh. He shouldn't have to mourn Dally and Johnny too. He buried his face in his hands. It wasn't fair and it wasn't okay. He was beginning to wonder if it would ever be okay. Johnny would always be dead.

_Johnny isn't dead,_ he reminded himself firmly. _He's not dead. He isn't dead. He's not dead. He didn't die. He's alive. He's alive, he's alive, he's alive._

He jumped as he heard the door shut behind him and turned his torso to look. Steve leaned against the door, casually crossing one leg over the other and lighting a cigarette as he did so. He held it up in offering. Pony held up his hands and Steve tossed him the pack then a lighter. The younger boy lit up gratefully then tossed them back.

"What are you doing up?" he asked before taking a drag.

Steve shrugged. "Couldn't help wondering why you were up."

"Couldn't sleep," Pony mumbled.

"Ain't you got a History test tomorrow?"

Pony shrugged his shoulders. "So?"

He heard the older boy heave a sigh and knew he was mentally counting to ten to keep patience. _He doesn't have to be out here with me_, Pony thought. _It's his choice. And I sure don't see why he's choosing to be out here. He hates me anyway._

"Kid," Steve said, "you gotta stop this."

"Stop what?" Oh, great. This was going to turn into a lecture. Pony rolled his eyes, annoyed that he was about to be chased out of his spot.

"This. Your grades aren't very you. You're usually a perfectionist about everything. It's annoying."

"Then be glad I don't care anymore," he replied dryly.

"Man, what the hell?" Steve was getting more and more frustrated. Pony didn't have to look at him to know he had his arms crossed and his eyes were narrowed and glaring. "You know you're distancing yourself from everyone."

"I don't see how. I seem to be a lot more like you now."

"How is that a good thing? You were always the one going places! Do you not see that? It's because you saw good things in the world, you were ambitious! You thought you could do it. Now you don't care. You don't even seem like you anymore."

_I don't need this._ Pony got up and headed for the gate. He'd go on a walk. He tried not to remember that the last time he left in the middle of the night it turned out to not be such a hot idea.

"Oh, no." Steve was suddenly in front of him, cutting him off. "You're not running away from this. You're gonna take this like a man." He shoved the younger kid back, not roughly but hard enough that Pony did stagger backwards a few steps. "That's what you want, right? To be a man? Like the rest of us? Do you know what that would mean? That would mean you're stuck in this damn town forever. The only way you'd ever get out is if that war continues to go on and you get drafted. Does that sound like fun to you?"

Ponyboy glared at him furiously. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to! Getting hard like us ain't the answer. You were never like us." His eyes flashed as he stepped forward. Pony wanted to step back in case Steve pushed him again but he didn't. He stood his ground.

"What do you care?" he finally snapped. "You hate me anyway."

Steve swore. "Are you serious? That's your big defense? That I hate you?"

"Well, you do don't you?"

"No. I don't," he answered shortly. Pony guessed that his face showed his surprise and shock because Steve let out a harsh laugh. "But that's what you thought huh? I guess this thickens the plot." His eyes softened just barely, in fact Pony wasn't even sure how he noticed it. "Kid, I never hated you. Found you a little annoying, sure. But never hated you. I don't even dislike you." He shook his head. "It got annoying to hear your brothers go on. You could do no wrong, you were a genius, you were soft hearted, you were different. But hell, it impressed me too."

Steve moved to the porch steps and sat down. "I don't think you know what any of us think about you. I mean, you were convinced Darry hated you too and that is so wild of an idea I don't even know..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I mean, I'm rude to you. I understand that. But how you got to the idea that Darry hated you?" He rolled his eyes. "Next will be Two-Bit. But if you get to that idea of Soda I'll be really concerned." He watched him for a few minutes then said, "But you are hurting them. You don't see it. But you should."

Pony opened his mouth to make a retort but Steve's angry gaze cut him off. "Kid, don't you dare get pissy with me right now. I ain't been sleeping good and I ain't in the mood." When Pony shut his mouth again, Steve nodded. "Good. Is there anyone else you think hates you?"

Pony shrugged, not wanting to answer that. It felt like Steve was poking fun at him and even if he wasn't, Pony didn't want to be having this conversation. Steve looked away and muttered, "At least you didn't think Johnny hated you."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

Steve was baiting him, he was sure of it. He just wasn't sure why. _This is why I think you hate me,_ Pony thought angrily. _These aren't the actions of a friend._ "Don't go there and don't talk about him in past tense."

"Why? He's dead, Ponyboy." His voice was harsh and Pony flinched from the words despite himself. "Dallas, on the other hand. He didn't hate _you_ but he sure hated the world. You know, I think his future was determined when your folks died." Pony set his jaw. This was just getting worse and worse. "But I thought, "Hey. You never know." And then Johnny died and we all know what-"

"_Stop it._"

"No." Steve got to his feet. "You can't go on pretending he's alive. Johnny is dead. He's dead. It's over. He died. Glare at me all you want, Pony. Hell, hate me if you want. But feel something. Stop going around like you're in a bubble. Johnny is dead. He's gone. The fire killed him. He's dead. There's no going back. Johnny's-"

"He can't be dead." Steve blurred in front of Pony's eyes.

"He is." This time Steve's voice was gentler. "You just need to deal with it. You're scaring the hell out of us." He moved to the younger boy slowly, almost as if he were approaching a wounded animal. "You may not see it but we're hurting too. We miss him too. And losing you on top of everything else would be too much." Pony looked up at him, trying to come up with something to say. But words were failing him. "You gotta wake up."

This was a lot to take. He felt like he had been jolted out of a bad dream and what shocked him the most was Steve being the person speaking gently to him now. He suddenly understood why the older boy had been baiting him a few minutes ago. He was trying to draw him out.

"I'm not asking you to make a complete turn around," Steve continued softly. "But a start would be good… Just think about it." Pony managed a nod and Steve gently steered him to the steps, where Pony sat down. The two of them sat together for a few minutes quietly. Neither of them spoke but neither of them had to.

Pony found himself thinking more about Steve than Johnny for once, not that the feeling wasn't welcome. When he was nine, he broke his arm at the park. Steve had been walking by at the time and had been the first one to reach him. When Pony was eleven, he had been distraught about his first D on homework. Steve had laughed when he heard but the moment he saw how much more upset Ponyboy got, he had knocked it off and watched his mom comfort him without saying a word. When Pony was six, he had lost his stuffed dog somewhere between home and the park. Steve had been the one to find it and Soda had said that Steve had been asking people on the street and everything, something that Soda reminded Pony of whenever Pony's displeasure with Steve was obvious.

Maybe Steve didn't hate him after all. He hadn't had to talk to him tonight. But he did. It may not have been the most calming of discussions but it was full of stuff that, if he was being completely honest with himself, he needed to hear. Although he wasn't about to break down all of it (especially the Johnny stuff) tonight. He was too emotionally exhausted. But he cared. He actually cared.

Pony looked at his big brother's best friend, who was looked at the sky, leaning back on his hands. Maybe Steve did think of Ponyboy as a tag along kid but he didn't hate him. Realizing this fact was a strange feeling, one that was definitely going to take getting used to, but it was a pretty good feeling. The first good feeling Pony had had for a while.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Steve asked wearily, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing." Ponyboy got to his feet. "I'm going to bed."

Steve stood up. "Tuff enough. I'm close to falling asleep right here."

This made Pony stop and stare again. Was he really prepared to sit with him out here until he was ready to go inside? The other boy groaned. "Kid, are we going in or not? Because I meant it when I said that I'm-"

Pony cracked the first smile he'd cracked in days and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go to bed." He went inside, Steve behind him.

"G'night kid." Steve rolled onto the couch, immediately settling in an uncomfortable looking position.

"Night." Pony turned and went down the hall to his room. It was weird. Most people would hug someone upset. Steve had baited him until he finally showed emotions before he tried to comfort him. And Pony appreciated it. Maybe he could start healing. Maybe he'd be okay.


	10. Ponyboy and Two-Bit

**A/N: Whoohoo, an update on time! The idea for this goes to xxLiveLoveReadxx. I hope ya'll enjoy it!**

**Story Ten**

**Ponyboy and Two-Bit**

**"The Greater Influence"**

Being laughing and joyful all the time was exhausting. It really was. Some days it was easy as anything. It made sense. It was nice. It was better than being upset. But laughing and making jokes had been exhausting tonight. Two-Bit sat in his car, keys in his hand, eyes closed. He couldn't even bring himself to start the car and pull out of the Curtis' driveway. He really couldn't.

If he was being honest, which he usually wasn't, his heart was still heavy from the losses of Johnny and Dallas. But there wasn't much he could do about it. He took a deep breath and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Although that wasn't what weighed on him today.

He closed his eyes, reluctantly thinking over his day. It had been going all right, not too bad really. But then he'd gotten in trouble at school. It wasn't his fault. It really wasn't. He blamed Eric, really. Eric was the idiot that started the fight. You don't insult a man's girl and not expect to get punched in the face. Deserved or not, the blow had landed him a trip to Mr. West's office.

Oh, Mr. Scott. He was the worst principal in history. He didn't care about the students and everyone knew it. He cared about his paycheck and about golf and other stupid crap. Unfortunately for Two-Bit, Mr. Scott hated had a problem with him. That problem, however, wasn't anything Two-Bit could control. It was a problem he had with his father. It seemed that about a week before he took off, his good for nothing dad had been caught in bed with Mr. West's life and owed him a fair amount of poker money.

Two-Bit's lips curled into a disgusted snarl as he thought about it. No wonder his father skipped out. Was there anyone in this town he hadn't screwed over? Probably not. _We're better off without him,_ Two-Bit thought. But thinking it just wasn't enough. He ached to show him, to show him that they didn't need him. _He left us and we picked up the pieces. He never made a difference._

A knock at the window made Two-Bit jump, he nearly hit his horn in the process. He turned to his passenger window. Ponyboy was standing outside, arms crossed over his bare arms. Sighing to himself, Two-Bit nodded at him to tell him it was unlocked. When was that kid going to start remembering jackets?

Pony slid into the passenger seat. "Hey," he greeted casually.

"Hey. You gonna tell me why you just gave me a heart attack?"

"I was worried about you."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Worried about me?"

The younger boy cocked an eyebrow right back at him. "Yeah. That idea so alien to you?"

Two-Bit raised both eyebrows, torn between feeling impressed at the kid's attitude and already feeling annoyed at the kid's insistence. Pony was in a mood to pry, that much was obvious. This was going to suck. "Go get a jacket," he said instead of answering. "I want to go for a walk and I have a feeling you're going to follow me."

Ponyboy got out of the car and went in the house without answering. Two-Bit opened the door and stepped out, pulling on his leather jacket as he did so. He could recognize a lost battle when he saw one and knew he was better off on a walk where he could easier find something to distract the kid from his questions than he was in the car.

Pony came back with his Jean jacket and started down the driveway, passing Two-Bit and then not even bothering to see if he was following. Cocking a smile, Two-Bit followed. "You got a weed?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

"Even better," Pony said, pulling a beer from inside his jacket and handing it to him.

Two-Bit grinned and took it. "This is why we keep you around kid."

Pony rolled his eyes. "So what happened? You've been off all day."

Two-Bit turned his eyes on the youngest Curtis, taken aback. "You noticed?"

Ponyboy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Of course I noticed," he replied. "I know you, Two-Bit. Apparently better than you think I do. I know better than to think you never have bad days. So what happened?"

Two-Bit hesitated, thinking it over. Did he really want to get into it? Not particularly so he took a drink of his beer and shrugged his shoulders. "You know," he said nonchalantly. "It was just one of those days."

"Just one of those days," repeated Ponyboy. "I'm sorry but I don't quite believe it. Something's bothering you."

"Oh?" Two-Bit raised his eyebrows lazily at him. "Now what do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure yet. But if you don't tell me I'll bug you and poke around until either you cave or I figure it out. So you could save us both a lot of effort and tell me."

Two-Bit eyed him thoughtfully. He was right. If Ponyboy was anything he was persistent. With a sigh, he looked up to the sky. "Fine. Fine. I got into a fight at school with Eric, the dick bag."

"I heard," Pony said slowly. "I heard you popped him a good one in the nose."

"Damn right. It was a beautiful hit but it got me sent to Mr. Scott. So Mr. Scott," he practically spat the name, "decided to lecture me for twenty minutes about decency." He could sense Ponyboy wondering what the big deal was here and kept going before he could ask, "It didn't take him long to tell me "The only other person I've ever seen who was so careless about getting into fights was your old man." And then he stopped. And he looked at me." He paused to take a long drink before continuing, "And he said, "Well, I suppose I was right about you after all then. You are on the right track to turn out like him after all. How soon before you skip out?" What a son of a bitch. What right did he have?" Two-Bit was seeing red as he spoke, feeling his rage bubbling to the surface. "What right did that sick bastard have? Who the hell does that? Who the hell just lets anger and frustration get the best of them? Who does this shit?"

"He was wrong to pretend he knows you," Pony said softly. "He was wrong to pretend that he knows where you're headed."

Two-Bit looked at him, surprised. "I didn't mean him," he spat. "I meant my father. If you can call him that." With a sudden burst of fury, he threw his now empty bottle (that he hardly even remembered drinking) at a tree. "What the hell? He had two kids! I don't so much mind him leaving_ me_. I get it. I'm a handful. Everyone knows I won't amount to anything. But Lucy? And Mom? What right did he have?" Voice shaking, Two-Bit buried his face in his hands to muffle a shout. "They don't deserve this! Mom don't deserve to work two jobs and Lucy don't deserve to think there's something wrong with her because he didn't want her!"

He could feel Pony's worried gaze on him but couldn't calm himself down. He'd awakened the beast and the beast was angry. "What if Mom never gets to relax? What if she never gets to not worry? Even after we're gone, she'll still have to work like a dog! It ain't fair! She shouldn't have to! It's his fault! It's his fault her hair's going gray and it's his fault that she don't ever date! It's his fault she don't trust anyone!

"And then there's Lucy. What if she gets into trouble because she don't know what a functional relationship is? I worry about her every damn day. Because she don't know. Mom and Dad ain't never been functional. Never. She ain't never seen anything decent from men!"

"She has," Ponyboy said quietly.

Two-Bit fixed his furious gray gaze on him, silently demanding an explanation.

"She has you," Pony said. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You're going places."

Two-Bit made a sound of disbelief. "Yeah. Jail. It ain't been that long since I've been in."

Pony snorted. "Don't brag about _that_. That was for doing handstands in public with Soda and you know it."

"So I'm a public nuisance. That can always become something else."

"You won't let it." His voice was tough, hard. "You have people you'd do anything for. That's why you're upset. You are not your father. He was a selfish pig who only did things for himself."

Two-Bit looked away.

"Your family loves you. And that matters to you. You'd never run out on anyone. Not even us."

"He might be right," he said simply. "We don't know. I steal. I'm proud of it. I fight. I love it. I smoke, I drink, I party. I ain't no saint."

"No one asked you to be."

Two-Bit's jaw was beginning to ache from having it set so tight. He rubbed it, heart pounding. He didn't want to look at Ponyboy. His words were making sense but he didn't want them to. He felt like every time he told himself those same things he was lying to himself. He didn't want to do it again. It was time to be honest.

"He had no right to leave," he said after a long time. "He had no right. A family is a commitment." An angry smirk pulled at his lips. "Or jail. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time, right?"

"It ain't like jail and you know it." Ponyboy was getting impatient with him now, he could hear it. But he shouldn't be surprised. Soda had always been the person to go to for sympathy. And he hadn't gone to Soda. He hadn't gone to anyone. But if he was being honest with himself he was glad that it was Ponyboy who had decided to talk to him. "It's a commitment. That's it. It ain't jail. You're forgetting that some parents do know their stuff. They do care. You'll be one of those."

"How do you know? It's not in my genetic code," Two-Bit spat bitterly.

He felt Pony's eyes tearing into him. "Yes it is," he said, sternly yet simply. "You're forgetting your mother."

Two-Bit froze and slowly turned to the younger boy. "I didn't…." But it was true. He was every bit his mother's son as he was his father's. More so, humor wise anyway, as well as patience.

"That's right. I've been at your house. You ain't nothing like him. But you're everything like her." Ponyboy's green eyes were blazing as he spoke, determination etched in every bit of him. "You gotta stop thinking that you're just like your dad. You ain't nothing like him. You ain't just "Mathews' son"."

Two-Bit thought the words over carefully. "But-"

"No butts. What got you thinking you were like him anyway?"

"He's a drunk."

"You ain't a drunk. You enjoy a good drink, you like to party, and yeah, you're drunk a lot. But you asked me for a weed, not a drink. You drank soda at dinner tonight, not alcohol."

"I lift things."

"Who don't lift things? Greasers always lift things."

"You don't."

"Yeah, well, I got Darry as a brother. All I'm saying is you ain't him. You seem to think you are or that you ought to be. But you ain't. You're more like your mom. Not your dad. The sooner you realize it the better. Ignore Mr. Scott. You know as well as I do that this was never really about him. This was about your old man."

Two-Bit looked away. It was true. Mr. Scott brought him up and it had just torn away the lazy bandage that Two-Bit had taped over his fear of turning out like his father. The fear had been with him for years. It was something he'd grown used to, managed to ignore most days. But not today. Well, not until now. But now he was thinking about his mother. She had raised him. So why had he always assumed he was like his father? His father had had little to no influence on his life.

Finally, feeling some of his usual personality begin to creep up on him, he cast the kid a grin. "I would never, no matter how desperate I was for a drink, drink Soda. I ain't a vampire."

Pony rolled his eyes, although smiling himself. "Shut up." He looked at Two-Bit for a long moment, studying him, then said, "You want to go back? You can go home and…" He let the statement hang in the air but they both knew he meant: _talk to your mom_.

"You know," he said slowly, "I think that's a damn good idea."

The two of them began walking back and Two-Bit threw him a grin. "By the way, thanks for bringing me that beer."

"I didn't know you were going to throw it," Pony replied with another eye roll. "I wouldn't have bothered."

"I'm shocked! You wouldn't have allowed your friend a much needed physical outlet?"

"I don't think throwing a bottle counts as a physical outlet."

"What would you have me do? Run laps?"

"I would."

"I'm a lounger, not a runner."

"Of course you are."

Two-Bit grinned at his friend. He wasn't sure how it had happened, or when for that matter. But somewhere along the way, the kid of the group had grown up and become a hell of a friend. And it was, without a doubt, something to be thankful for.


	11. Dally and Darry

**A/N: Wow! This is so late! I'm sorry you guys! Combined with college and writer's block, I haven't gotten much done lately! But I hope you like this! I enjoyed writing it!**

**Thank you Delgados for the idea. :)**

**And a big thanks to all of you for making this story what it is. It would really be nothing without all of you.**

**Story Eleven**

**Dally and Darry**

**"That was Enough"**

"You can't keep on like this you know."

Darry felt his shoulders tighten and he set his jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about." He raised his gaze to the figure of the blonde boy in his kitchen doorway. Dallas smirked and nodded as if to say _yes, you do and you know I'm right_. Severely rubbed the wrong way, Darry turned back to what he was doing. But no amount of preparing for Ponyboy's birthday dinner would distract him from this.

He thought it all the time himself. He himself was always wondering how much longer he could go before he'd crack. He told himself all the time that he could make it. He wasn't going to crack. He could keep going. But who could keep going through all this?

When his parents died about seven months ago, he had made the decision to stay with his brothers and take care of them. If he didn't have them, what did he have? He had to do right by them. They came first. It had always been that way for him. Ponyboy and Sodapop were everything. They came first. So why was it so hard now?

Darry opened the oven and reached in to pull out the cake. The minute he touched the pan he realized that he'd forgotten a oven mitt. With a grunt, he quickly pulled his hand out and shut the oven. Swearing, he moved to the sink. Dally loped to it and turned on the cool water. Sticking his hand under it, Darry let out a breath and contorted his face with pain and relief at the same time.

"I mean it." Dally's voice was less taunting now and more stern. "You can't keep doing this. Do you see what you just did to yourself?"

Slamming the water off, Darry fixed him with an icy look. "So don't distract me."

"I'm not the distraction and you know it. Darrel, you can't be superman all the time."

Darry felt his eyebrows practically vanish into his hair. "Oh? Is that so?" He crossed his arms across his broad chest. "That's funny. You see, I recall everyone calling me that since I was seven so you see if I'm a bit used to assuming-"

"I mean," Dally went on talking as if Darry had never started, "that you aren't invincible. You miss them too. And you seem to be set on denying that."

"Since when do you meddle?" Darry asked, refusing to acknowledge the point his friend had just made. He knew he was right but there was no way that he was about to take advice from Dallas Winston, not when he refused to admit even to himself that he had a problem.

"Well, we've all been waiting around for seven months and someone had to talk to you. You're killing yourself. And when you run out of energy it ain't gonna be any good for Soda or Pony."

"I can handle it," Darry said darkly, turning back to the oven.

"Don't forget the mitt."

Darry threw him a venomous look and picked up the oven mitt pointedly before reaching into the oven. Dally clapped twice in sarcasm and Darry ground his teeth. He might just get jailed for murder today.

"I'm sorry," Dally said smoothly. "Am I making you angry?"

Darry exhaled and tried to ignore him as he set the cake down on a potholder. "I'm fine."

"You look angry to me, football star."

"What do you want, Dal?" Darry turned to him, eyes hard.

"You have to admit that you have an issue. Admit that you miss your mom and dad. Admit that you don't know what to do. Admit that you ain't having an easy time."

"What's the point? What's the point of that? All that's gonna happen is I'll feel worse than I did when I refused to acknowledge it and I'll be thinking about it a lot more and feel kicked and pushed down."

Dallas rolled his eyes. "Damn, you're a pessimist."

"Coming from you that ain't good."

"Can't you see that this is killing you?" Dally leaned forward. Everything but his eyes had a lazy, apathetic sense to it. His arms were crossed casually, he had one booted leg crossed over the other as he stood, and he as leaning against the fridge as if he didn't have a care in the world. But his eyes were set and determined. "If you keep this up, you _will_ die at a young age. It's obvious to everyone that you ain't been sleeping and you don't eat much anymore but then you go and work like a war horse. It's gonna kill you, man."

Darry almost flinched by the words but held himself back. He knew it was true. He hadn't been feeling well lately and he knew it wasn't from a cold. He was getting weaker from exhaustion. But how could he _stop_? How could he stop working as hard as he could for his brothers, even if it meant working when he felt like eating or sleeping?

He opened his mouth to explain but no words came out. It had finally happened, then. His fight was drained. Filled with nothing but a depressed emptiness, he leaned back against the sink. He did miss his parents. He hadn't just lost his mother, he'd lost his confidant. He hadn't just lost his father, he'd lost his best friend. Not to mention all of the dreams that he'd had for himself since he'd learned what college was.

He looked at the floor, suddenly overwhelmed with anger at his weakness. He had to be there for his brothers. His pain didn't matter, theirs did. He had to make Ponyboy's birthday as wonderful as he could. It was the least he could do. He'd never be able to replace their parents. He didn't even think he'd ever be able to guide him right. No, he could never make things right. So what right did he have to feel this way?

"Maybe it's time to move past all your shit."

Darry flicked his eyes to Dally, too exhausted to tell him to screw off, too exhausted to ask him how. He was too drained to say a word. So he just looked back down at his shoes.

"Let it go. Whatever it is that's holding you back. Let it go."

He wouldn't go as far as to call Dally's tone gentle and it certainly wasn't as close to gentle as he had heard Dallas Winston get, that honor went to interactions with Johnny. But his tone was much less harsh than usual, although still tough and commanding.

"Move."

Darry's gaze flicked up again to see Dallas push himself from the wall.

"You heard me," he said impatiently. "Move."

Darry hesitated before shoving himself away from the sink. Dally, muttering crossly to himself about how no one ever listened to him, went and began icing the cake. Watching Dallas Winston ice a birthday cake had to be one of the strangest things Darrel Curtis had ever witnessed. But it got him thinking.

All this time he had been thinking about what he'd _lost_. But what had he gained? For starters, there was a self-awareness that he hadn't had before. He'd always thought of what his actions did to others, sure, but not like he did now. Now he studied everything, except, perhaps, eating and sleeping.

He had a chance to stick with his gang, his real friends. He'd had friends in high school who were now already in college or on the way, such as Paul Holden. But announcing that he was sticking with his brothers had been a quick and thorough weeding out process. Most, like Paul, had abandoned him on the pretense that he truly was "just a greaser". Some stuck through. But he still had the gang. He'd always have the gang.

Lastly, he had a chance to really have a close relationship with his brothers. He had a chance to have one of those family relationships between siblings that one mostly read about. Who was he to throw that away? Why not make the best of this situation? Why not be there for them in a way that didn't cause him to collapse in bed at night, too exhausted to move but too overworked to actually sleep?

"Damn, are you still thinkin' over there?" interrupted Dallas's harsh voice. "How long so I have to keep doing this? Is that enough frosting?"

Darry saw, with some amusement, that Dallas was in the process of adding _too much_ icing, which would have been perfect for Sodapop but not so much so for Ponyboy. He moved forward to show him. In the end, Dally got frustrated and whipped his knife full of frosting in the air so violently that some of the frosting flew off the blade and hit the wall.

Both boys looked at it for several minutes before Dallas threw his hands in the air. "I am not cleaning that," he announced.

Darry felt a smile prick his lips as he went to clean it. Some things, he thought, never changed. Dallas would always be Dallas. He would help his friends in his own, unique way but he would not, under any circumstances, clean. The thought was oddly comforting.

Dally was nothing like Paul, who was a neat freak and worked at school and had high standards for nearly everything. Dally was messy and extraordinarily lazy at certain things and accepted nearly anything as food.

It was in this moment, this moment of comparing and contrasting the life he could have been living for this life he had now, that he realized that he really wouldn't trade it. He'd chose the messy and lazy Dallas Winston over the demanding and ambitious Paul Holden any day of the week. In this dark time of his life, this time when he was weak and falling apart and wilting away, one of the boys had stuck around and made a gesture to help when most days he acted as if he didn't care, while the other had fled off to college because Darry had proved to be "just a greaser".

_Maybe_, Darry thought with a jolt, _a greaser isn't such a bad thing to be after all._

"Here."

He looked in surprise as an apple was shoved in his direction. He turned his blue gaze to Dally, who was holding out the food.

"You need food," Dally grunted. "Here."

Darry took it. "Thanks."

"If you're going to take forever to register when I'm actually _trying_ to help, I'm going to stop doing it," Dally warned him, moving out of the kitchen.

Darry snorted a small chuckle and took a bite of the apple. He looked around at the kitchen. The kitchen with its peeling paint and its old appliances and its stained counters. _His_ kitchen. He glanced after the other boy, the tough boy who didn't need anybody. The tough grease who had actually grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the darkest place he had ever been in.

"Dallas," he called. "Why did you come to talk to me?"

He watched Dally's eyebrows raise calmly. "Simple," he replied. "I drew the shortest straw."

Darry laughed lightly, a feeling that felt good and foreign. It wasn't hard to hear the sarcasm dripping in Dallas's voice. Sarcastic or not, it was a reassuring answer. Nothing was going to change. His gang was still the same gang with the same members. Dallas was still never going to admit he gave a damn about them.

But they would always know different. And that was enough.


End file.
